


Get me the fuck out of here

by Pingviini



Series: Deadpool wants to hang out with Spidey [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Deadpool (Comics), Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Awkward Sexual Situations, Basically torture, Crossover, Drama, Drug Use, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Human Experimentation, Humour, I mean Wade thinks his donkey might be on meth, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Inner Dialogue, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Character Death, Offensive Jokes, Sexual Content, Swearing, Tags to be added, Texting, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence, a.k.a lame jokes, batfamily, daddyissues, deadpool is allergic to bullshit, idk even, implied animal abuse(kinda?), most likely puns, send help, slight Manipulation, slight angst, what am i
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-05-28 02:12:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 38,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15038414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pingviini/pseuds/Pingviini
Summary: Deadpool fools Spider-Man into breaking in to S.H.I.E.L.D. testing labs after hearing some delicious rumours of what's inside but comes across a red shiny button. One he probably, no, definitely shouldn't have pressed because something goes, oh so horribly, wrong and it's up to Wade Wilson to save his damsel in distress. And the fact that he had caused the distress is irrelevant. Deadpool is the mightiest hero, so just, shhhh~***Are you done?” Bruce Wayne asks when their guest finally stops to take more than one breath. His tone is calm enough although all of them could sense the aggravation from his body language. Well, all of them excluding the man in red.“Done?” the man in red chuckled. “I haven’t even started. This cave is fucking ridiculous. I’m curious – what did you tell the hired arms when they were building this? That they were digging you a sex dungeon where you would keep all your beautiful teenagers stored right next to your dinosaur statue and a coin, judging by the size of it, undoubtedly the pocket money of some gigantic kid you also made wear green spandex after shooting his parents at a circus. Why would you even keep a coin that size? What even are you? – Skrooge McDuck?”





	1. The Bat is back

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friend! And thank you for opening this work.  
> It started from a one-liner joke and suddenly this happened. So, I've written something in addition to this but I'm not quite sure where I'm going with this or if anyone is really interested to read this. But I just HAD to post this now before I get too critical and delete this (seeing as I have deleted most of my incomplete fics from my computer). So, here it is. It's not much but it's a start!
> 
> I'm not a native speaker so there are bound to be mistakes. Terribly sorry about that. Do feel free to correct me!  
> Anyway, hope you'll enjoy~  
> and thank you for reading♥  
> 

_Gotham City GCPD_

The hot and humid weather has sucked all the energy from the usually busy city. Even Gotham’s underworld seemed to have vaporized in the heat – or at least seemingly most of it. The sudden silence had left GCPD rolling their thumbs in anticipation as they had no reason to believe this wasn’t just calm before the storm. On the bright side, at least Gordon didn’t have to run around his ass in sweat all day and night but with the light comes a shadow. This meant that he had all the time in the world to do all the unfinished paperwork he had been too busy avoiding during the winter seasons. Even if filling forms and such was less demanding physically, being stuck in a stuffy office hours at a time took a toll on his nerves. To put it simply: he hated paperwork. Perhaps that being almost too simple. Mostly he disliked the way how all his unwanted thoughts caught up to him whenever he’d stop moving.  
Still, Gordon didn’t dare complain as he was almost certain karma would beat his ass silly by blowing up half of the city if he would’ve openly admitted to the sin of being bored. So, he was trying to make the best of it even if he constantly felt restless. Kind of like a soldier between battles.

However, James Worthington Gordon knows he has in fact not one but two things to thank for the breather he hadn’t yearned for. One obviously being the suffocating heatwave that had been plaguing Gotham City weeks on end and the other thing…? Now that he really doesn’t want to thank. It was a matter of principal. He knew a lot of respectable men who had fallen a victim to the ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’-way of thinking and he wasn’t planning on lining up for it.

Someone had been wreaking havoc and let all hell loose. A certain someone who scared even the biggest crime families to the stage they had actually began calling the cops opposed to avoiding any unnecessary contact. In a way it reminded Jim of rats trapped in a sinking ship. The nasty rodents running straight into a cat’s open mouth to avoid drowning. But that didn’t mean anything good had come of it because desperate times called for desperate measures and James could almost smell the pot stirring. Pure poison.

At least he finally had an excuse to get out of the office. Tough luck his excuse happened to gruesomely murder innocent people.

“Gordon?”

The darkly dressed man is certainly a sight to sore eyes. Gordon’s first instinct is to let a relieved smile stretch his mouth briefly.

“You got cooling on that thing too?” he asks trying to prolong the moment of easiness followed by the Dark knight’s appearance before having to ruin it with talk about criminal activities. Which frankly seemed to be the only thing he did do anymore despite the ostensible decrease of these said activities.

“Something of sorts,” Batman replies quizzically while Jim turns off the bright light illuminating the thin curtain of clouds.

“I’d almost lost hope. Bullock said even you’re too afraid to come out of hiding,” James says humming somewhat disapprovingly, but Bruce doesn’t doubt for a second that the thought wouldn’t have crossed James’ mind too. Or maybe it was Gordon’s way of implying just that. Regardless of whether the honesty in his statement was intentional or not, it’s still reassuring.

“Not exactly,” Bruce replies. “I assume this has something to do with the man in red.”

“Actually, this has everything to do with the man in red. I assume you already saw the catastrophe in the news? —Of course you did. It’s all the press has been printing,” Jim says stammering with his words in a way that makes Bruce Wayne uneasy. Jim is about to continue his monologue that would’ve undoubtedly included more than a few sour words on Gotham’s media outlets but instead the man decides to hold his tongue and take a deep breath. He then proceeds to massage his front lobes with his thick fingers. Eyes squeezing shut.  
Bruce had indeed read papers and watched news broadcasts about everything that had been going on while he had been gone and to be completely honest, he had found himself more than a little taken aback by the way Gordon’s name had been dropped after many bold accusations. Bruce Wayne had called the Gotham Gazette and vowed his unbreakable trust in James Worthington Gordon but Batman – no. He wouldn’t take sides. For Jim’s own sake.

“I’m guessing there has been a new development?” Batman asks after a moment of heavy silence between them.

“You’d think that when a man blows himself to smithereens with a handful of grenades the case would be closed, but I always forget this is Gotham,” Gordon says and from the way the man is pacing back and forth fingers raised to his lips as if he’d be smoking a make-believe cigarette, Bruce can tell James feels like his investigation had hit a brick wall. He had the anxious mannerisms of a trapped wild animal.

“He –or all that’s left – no, some of what is left of him – has disappeared from the morgue,” the man continues again stammering with his words slightly as he is unsure how to present the situation without giving too much of an angle. He is in a desperate need of a fresh opinion.

“Are you saying someone stole parts of the body?” Batman asks making Jim frown. He never got used to the Dark knight putting words in his mouth even though in most cases he would get it right. Or within a throwing distance at least.

“Left behind were the limbs. Rest of it gone with a bloody trail. All the surveillance footage has been corrupted.”

“Are there no witnesses?”

“No, deceased. Three pathologists and a night guard. It wasn’t easy to watch, let me tell you. From the looks of it they had a real brawl. The messy kind,” James Gordon’s face is twisted oddly as he peers into the distance at nothing in particular while reliving the scene in his head.

Murphy’s law was consistent. Of course, ground breaking events had occurred the second he had left Gotham. Alfred hadn’t only not alerted Bruce about these events but also went through a world of trouble making sure Bruce wouldn’t find out altogether. Convincing Bruce to attend a series of conferences and such in France hadn’t exactly been a walk in the park to begin with, so he doesn’t find it hard to imagine that Alfred had probably went to great lengths to keep him from flying back prematurely. As a rule, attending business meetings wouldn’t be considered a holiday per say but at least Pennyworth had seemed convinced it would do Bruce good to get out of town for a while. And Bruce knows from experience that sulking over it wouldn’t make Alfred think he had been wrong. Mostly because he hadn’t.

Still he just hoped Grayson or Todd had visited the crime scenes and kept track on the happenings more closely.

“Are there any clues as to why someone would steal his body?” Batman asks and Gordon stops his pacing.

“Right now, we can only make a few guesses but nothing pressing. However there appears to be something wrong in his DNA. We’re just unsure what exactly,” he says hand slipping into his trousers’ pocket. Bruce watches the man fixedly as he pulls out a small plastic bag containing a severed finger surrounded by half melted ice cubes. “I’m going on a limb here and took a hell of a risk taking this but maybe you have the means to find out what it is that makes his body worth killing those people.”

Wayne offers his gloved hand and waits patiently while Gordon second-guesses himself before placing the bag on his palm.

“I mean, what’s one missing finger at this point?” he huffs out a laughter that sounds definitely more frustrated than amused.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Batman tells him beginning to study the iced finger more closely. The first thing he notices is the heavy scarring of the skin. Even beyond the fresh burns. The cause of that tissue damage was something else entirely.

While Bruce is busy examining the finger, Gordon takes the time to run his eyes around the Bat’s features. He notices a fat drop of sweat rolling down the cleanshaven cheek and wonders why the man had lied about the cooling. It was an odd thing to lie about after all. But in a way he supposed the white lie summed the very reason he valued such an ally in one short sentence. Batman wasn’t stood there in front of him as a man but an idea. Something far greater Gordon himself could’ve ever hoped to be.

Even though Batman’s methods weren’t always something Gordon would stand behind, he still found comfort in Batman’s unyielding passion towards helping Gotham. He could’ve used some of the confidence too.

James thinks about making a remark about the temperature and how it was bad for his heart but refrains. Instead he takes a few breaths before turning his back on the bat.

“Good to have you back.”

“Good to be back.”

_Meanwhile somewhere in Gotham’s industrial district_

 

“Nightwing, do you copy?” Tim Drake’s voice speaks from Richard Grayson’s earpiece.

“I copy, Red Robin. I’m almost there. How bad is it?”

The line crackles and Tim’s voice breaks. Grayson stops on his tracks crouching down to rest his feet while he tries shuffling the frequency slightly. “Hold on a second.”

“I don’t think this is Jason,” Tim repeats himself once Richard gives him a green light.

“What?” Dick furrows his brows to no one. “Are you positive?”

The line crackles some more and everything Tim Drake says turns into a puzzle of unrelated syllables.

Jason’s abrupt disappearance had been more than enough to scare Grayson since things had been going sideways for them even before that. During the few days of Todd’s radio silence they had all tossed around some pretty concerning ideas as to why he would’ve just disappeared without saying a word. So, when Jason finally did contact them asking for a little helping hand, Dick, Tim and a very involuntary Damian had all left to his aid. Especially with Bruce’s return right around the corner Dick Grayson really wanted to make everything seem like he had had things under control in Bruce’s absence. In fact, he had been so sure of being able to handle things for a few weeks he had somehow managed to convince Alfred he would be free to leave for England to visit his sister who had fallen severely ill. Grave mistake. Because now his eagerness to look competent had just done the opposite. Not that he would’ve been a lousy crime fighter or a detective but having been away from Gotham for so long he had forgotten that it really was a city like no other.

“Tim? Are you sure?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure he just tried to shoot me.”

_Well… Fuck._


	2. The heartwarming reunion - or not?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, you can relax your twink asses. He is not dead, although not from the lack of trying. Never bring a fist to a gunfight,” the man says, and Dick bats his eyes at the statement.  
> “Scratch that, having your hands intact is obviously more than recommended. What I meant was that If someone points a gun at you, don’t go in for a punch. This guy gets it,” the man in red says gesturing down to Tim who is rapidly losing blood and colour from his face. Richard is running out of time and Damian being an obvious no show he has to figure out something. And fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided not to take this too seriously because I'm honestly just having fun writing this. So with that being said this isn't going to be too dark and realistic. I'm on my summer vacation so I have a lot of time on my hands and this is as good way to pass it as any! Fair warning: I haven't actually read too many comics where the whole batfamily is featured so my portrayal of their dynamics and characteristics is based more on what I think they would be like rather than how they've behaved in the comics.  
> Let's not take things too seriously, okay? Great, I knew you'd get it.
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading and sorry about the mistakes! Comments are always more than welcome c:

“Stay out of sight until I get there. Have you heard from Robin?” he asks fastening his jog into a run before jumping from one rooftop to another over a narrow alleyway.

The relief he had felt after getting a message from Jason vanished completely. An awful feeling was starting to pool inside his stomach as his head went through so many scenarios each considerably worse than its predecessors.

“Are you far? I don’t know how much longer I can keep this guy from slaughtering everyone – holy hell—”

Tim’s voice breaks and the line crackles before going silent. “Tim?” Dick calls cursing in his head. He checks the coordinates wondering if calling the Batwing now would do him any good but he’s so close the vehicle would reach the warehouse only minutes after him. He calls the Wing anyway in case they should need to get out quickly because from the sound of Tim’s yell he could tell things weren’t going their way. And with no Bat or Alfred to save their asses, he doubted having a plan C was a bad idea.

“Robin? Where are you?”

No answer.

“Alfred, where are you when I need you,” Dick mumbles to himself as he fails to pinpoint Damian’s location. But he runs out of time to worry as the warehouse finally stands in front of him. Tall and definitely crumbling. His eyes locate an open window on the roof and he climbs as silently as he can. The fact that his soft steps are the only thing he hears makes him even more worried. On second thought, Tim’s sudden cry of anguish is definitely a lot more concerning.

“I came alone. I swear,” Tim’s voice flails and breaks near the end and it makes the hair on Grayson’s skin rise as chills run down his spine.

Dick looks down from the window. Tim Drake is pinned to the wall by a man who most definitely despite not being Jason Todd is wearing his suit. A shiny blade of a katana disappearing inside Drake’s bleeding shoulder and when the man twists it the boy’s face too twists in pain.

The two were surrounded by a bloody mess of intestines and body parts. It is something unlike anything he had ever seen, and the gruesome sight makes him feel that much more worried for Tim’s life. The guy wasn’t fucking around. Unless his idea of fucking around was slicing people open, which just might not have been that farfetched.

“Could you stop that?” Tim Drake winces and it takes Dick a second to realize the boy isn’t talking about the blade twisting in his flesh.

“Honesty is the best policy. I’ve asked you nicely. Tell me where I can find the Bat,” the man in red speaks up and it is the single most obnoxious sound Dick has ever heard. It is raspy in all the wrong ways, and almost oddly shrill at times considering it was otherwise pretty low and grumbly.

“I don’t feel too good,” Drake breathes out and even from so far away Dick can see his face has gone pale.

“You forgot to say Mr. Stark,” the voice giggles, “I’m sorry. Too soon?”

“What?” Tim frowns and right after that the boy’s eyes land on him. Too bad it doesn’t go unnoticed by the man, who pulls out the blade in one sharp but careful movement. Tim’s legs fail him and without support the boy slides bonelessly down against the wall grunting. Then there is a gun. Pointed towards Tim’s forehead.

“Come out or your friend gets it,” the man says glancing at Dick’s general direction over his shoulder. And Grayson has to admire his self-confidence. How he doesn’t even bother turning around for his sake. It makes his feet get a little cold. The element of surprise had been the startings of a plan in his mind and now with that out of the picture his first instinct is to do anything that wouldn’t result in Timothy getting a new hole in his head.

“I’m counting on you, Robin,” Dick mumbles quietly before jumping down as he hears the man click off the safety from the handgun. Dick can feel the sleep deprivation haunting his every movement and also clogging up his mind.

“Don’t shoot him,” he says in a voice something between asking and ordering.

“Finally, the man I’ve been looking for”, the man declares ceremoniously turning halfway to face Nightwing but still keeping the gun directed at Tim. “Who the fuck are you?”

The man’s posture falls slightly, evidently from disappointment and Dick can’t help but to feel a little offended that seeing him turn up is obviously underwhelming for the stranger. He opens his arms to his sides presenting his suit.

“Nightwing? Never heard of me?” he asks wondering if he could make a do with a simple distraction.

“For fucks sake!” the man groans, and for Dick’s surprise, tucks the gun back in to his pants. “How many of you clowns there are? First this guy shows up,” he points at his mask, “then the little brat with very bad manners, mind you, and now you two.”

Grayson’s hands go cold too at the mention of a little brat with bad manners as there is no doubt of whom the man is talking about.

“What did you do to the kid?” he asks already imagining Damian ending up looking like a Jackson Pollock painting nothing unlike the rest of the people this man has slaughtered.

“Oh, you can relax your twink asses. He is not dead, although not from the lack of trying. Never bring a fist to a gunfight,” the man says, and Dick bats his eyes at the statement.

“Scratch that, having your hands intact is obviously more than recommended. What I meant was that If someone points a gun at you, don’t go in for a punch. This guy gets it,” the man in red says gesturing down to Tim who is rapidly losing blood and colour from his face. Richard is running out of time and Damian being an obvious no show he has to figure out something. And fast.

“I’m beginning to think the bat is a group hallucination or something. I’ve tried everything, but I can’t get him to come out. Seriously, whose dick do I have to suck to meet this fucking _feared Dark Knight_ around here?”

“Stay with me Red Robin,” Dick says when he notices Tim’s eyelids starting to droop alarmingly. Why was this man so eager to meet Batman?

“Duck,” a low voice grumbles menacingly in his earpiece and Dick manages to move barely an inch to the side when a bullet grazes his side stinging awfully and its flight ends in the strangers’ chest.

“Is it weird if I think you’re kinda hot when you’re all worked up?” the man huffs to Todd before the first bang is followed with another one and a bullet sinks in his forehead splattering Tim with some more red.

“I said _duck,_ idiot,” Jason’s voice murmurs as he shoots the crumbling body again and again making it twitch slightly on the ground.

“Are you serious? You shot him,” Dick manages to utter after Jason lowers the gun.

“Observant. After the things this fucking piece of shit did to me this is what I consider nice,” Todd retorts with a stinging tone Grayson has never heard before and he has to wonder whatever the man had done to insult him that much. Jason had been killed before, so it couldn’t be anything worse than that, could it?

“Are you insane? There are cameras here and you show up without a mask and shoot someone? Wow, if you would use your brain every once in a while,” Grayson says only a few decibels away from shouting. He has no idea how to handle his shock spawned by Todd’s actions.

“He was going to shoot Tim. The fuck was I supposed to do? Pull pantyhose over my head and knock him silly with my fists? I’ve fought him before and trust me when I say it doesn’t work on him,” Todd gnarls positively radiating with anger and oh how this is not what Dick had thought their reunion would be like. Even though they fought a lot he still had hoped there would be a lot less killing and maybe a hug, like normal people do when they see each other. And from where Dick was looking the man had obviously tucked the gun away but why he had done that was beyond him. Something about the sheer inconsistency of the man’s behaviour had been unnerving.

“Uh, guys. If you could fight later, I’ve lost a lot of blood and if my calculations are right. We might only have like ten minutes or so,” Drake says weekly.

Jason frowns as he watches Dick rip off his sleeve to press on Tim’s wound before picking up the injured boy who groans with even the slightest of movements. His already red suit has been painted with a new deep red with blood that starts to colour also the blue decorating Dick’s torso.

“What are you taking him for?” Dick asks when Jason grabs the man he had used as a target practise.

“Trust me. We don’t want to leave him here. He knows my identity,” Jason replies like it would be obvious.

“I don’t think that really matters anymore,” he can’t resist the urge to tell him even though a part of him thinks there has to be some explanation.

“You’ll figure it out soon enough, Nightwing,” Todd assures Dick starting to drag the man from one foot towards the exit leaving a bloody trail after him.

“I’m not sure I like the sound of that,” he tells Jason, who just laughs weirdly as a response.

_Back at the cave_

“He does not look happy,” Dick says under his tone as he lands the Batwing. Bruce stood near the landing pad with crossed arms and an expression that doesn’t promise anything good.

“He could not have chosen a worse time to come back,” Jason groans pushing the bullet about to fall off from the supposedly dead man’s forehead back in. “And the brat is with him. This is not going to be good.”

“Well at least he is better at mending wounds than me,” Dick says patting the pale Timothy on the head.

Bruce doesn’t say a word as they exit the vehicle. Not even about the condition Tim is in. The tension could be cut with a knife and Dick really hopes Alfred would’ve been there too. Because he was usually the only one able to talk some sense into the Bat and/or take some of the heat if needed.

Barbara’s arrival is the first thing to break the ice as her honest worry for Tim seems so motherly it’s endearing.

“Look at you. You guys should’ve called me. I told you it wasn’t an important event,” she frowns holding the boy’s hand as Bruce begins to stitch the wound.

“It’s fine, Barb. Don’t sweat it,” Tim says bravely but it does next to nothing to soothe her nerves.

“What happened?” she asks, and Jason clears his throat making Bruce’s blue eyes dart to him the instant. Their gaze piercing and demanding.

“About that,” he starts to speak but a thump followed by a groan from inside the Batwing interrupts him. He can see in his peripheral vision that the man in his suit had fallen off the bench to the vehicle’s floor.

“What was that?” Barbara furrows her brows probably saying the same thing the rest, excluding Jason of course, were thinking about as well. Richard doesn’t even know where to begin to recount all the fuck ups they had made in Bruce’s absence and adding to that whatever Jason isn’t telling them he doesn’t even want to start talking. Everything from sending Alfred away to England to see his ill sister without communicating this with Bruce even though the man had specifically asked them to give him a call if the butler would have to leave, to Jason getting kidnapped and Damian fucking up a surveillance tape before any of them had had the chance to see it. Richard has to actively remind himself they were supposed to be detectives because they surely hadn’t acted the part.

“You should’ve taken your suit off before shooting me because now you’ve ruined it. So, the joke’s on you,” the same annoying voice Richard had heard back in the warehouse did some of the talking for him. At least he doesn’t have to be the one to tell The Dark Knight one of his mentees had shot a man in cold blood. _Wait what?_

It takes some group effort but after a while the man, still in Jason’s suit, is sitting on a metallic chair. Hands cuffed behind his back and legs to the chair. All of them staring at him not really sure what to make of the man who apparently hadn’t read the memo about the seriousness of the current situation.

”I mean,” the man in red continues just to pause making a weird face before speaking again, “both of you circus acrobats, whose parents were gunned down right before you reaching the beautiful peak of puberty. And then this millionaire, who – mind you – dresses like a bat, just so happens to be there. That’s a little too convenient, isn’t it?”

His words are met with a silence mixed with various feelings. The man’s eyes travel around the people’s faces like looking for support but receives none.

“Seriously. I can’t be the only one seeing this, right?”

Jason’s eyebrow quirks up and he crosses his arms sharing a look with Dick, who is starting to understand Todd’s earlier behaviour.

“You guys even look like copies of each other. It’s almost like someone got rid of a sidekick just a little too hastily and then got too lazy to create a new one, so they just changed the name. ~~I’m looking at you Gerry Conway.~~ It’s either that or then Batman is just a paedophiliac with a very, and I mean awfully, specific type.  
But hey, you just keep looking down at me from that high horse. Whatever makes you sick people sleep at nights. Oh, _right,”_ the man turns to look at Bruce who looks so very unimpressed, “at nights you roam the city in your kinky Bat outfit accompanied by your harem of young boys. I get it. I couldn’t sleep either.”

“Are you done?” Bruce Wayne asks when their guest finally stops to take more than one breath. His tone is calm enough although all of them could sense the aggravation from his body language. Well, all of them excluding the man in red.

“Done?” the man in red chuckled. “I haven’t even started. This cave is fucking ridiculous. I’m curious – what did you tell the hired arms when they were building this? That they were digging you a sex dungeon where you would keep all your beautiful teenagers stored right next to your _dinosaur_ statue and a coin, judging by the size of it, undoubtedly the pocket money of some gigantic kid you also made wear green spandex after shooting his parents at a circus. Why would you even keep a coin that size? What even are you? – Skrooge McDuck?”

At this point Jason coughs into his fist in attempt to cover up the fact that he is smiling, while Tim Drake wears a frown that could’ve fooled anyone into thinking he had just stumbled upon someone drowning a bag full of puppies. Damian on the other hand is visibly shaking and Dick doesn’t try to control his amusement (which was probably sparked more from the comical situation rather than the man’s words).

“And don’t even get me started on your equipment. The _Bat_ mobile? _Bat_ computer? _Bat_ wing? _Bat_ arang?” at this point the man takes a break to laugh heartily and wipe the corner of his eye where he had shed a little tear from all the laughing. It takes Dick a moment to realize he had gotten out of the cuffs and he shudders when his brain pieces the puzzle together figuring out that the awful crackling had originated from the man breaking some bones in order to slip his hands out of the bindings. “What’s next – a batdildo? It’s almost like a five-year-old would’ve come up with this shit. ‘ _I love bats daddy. When I grow up I want to drive a batmobile, play on my batcomputer while eating a batsandwich. In fact, I think I want to be a bat when I grow up’_ and then your mother patted you on the head like ‘ _sure, you do you honey’_ while your father shook his head disapprovingly because you were supposed to inherit his company, not a brain disease.”

And all Dick could think was how the man could not be a spy as his impressions of a child and a grown woman were identical and both equally lousy. Although the man had managed to uncuff himself fairly quickly.

Never had Dick witnessed someone getting all of their teeth knocked out in one go. But a first time for everything, right? He wasn’t at all surprised someone knocked the man silly but very surprised it had been Barbara.

“My turn!” Damian says eagerly but manages to take only one step before Bruce grabs a firm hold of his cape.

“What?” Barbara asks Dick who is unable to stop staring at her.

“Nothing. Just didn’t think you had that in you,” Grayson answers smiling, and Todd rolls his eyes when Barbara returns the smile.

“Guys, in all seriousness this guy is really dangerous. If he is really the one behind all the mayhem going on the past month, I’m not sure keeping him here is a great idea,” Tim says with a very strained voice as he watches the man spit out teeth seemingly quite unphased by the punch that would’ve probably been enough to knock out anyone of them.

“Who are you?” Bruce asks and the man actually does answer but none of them can make out what he says.

“Deadpool,” Jason says on the man’s behalf voice dripping with spite.

“Look at that. We already finish each other’s sentences. I knew we would get along,” the man gurgles spitting out the rest of the teeth from his mouth.

“I will shoot you again and this time I won’t be kind enough to aim for your head,” Todd snarls making Dick even more eager to find out exactly what had happened but it was most likely a story for another day.

“You went through a lot of trouble to catch my attention and now you have it. Better start talking before you lose it,” Bruce says in a calm cold demeanour.

 


	3. Death by pasta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t you think that the Bat-costume part is the most obvious thing to mention if you’re looking for the Batman,” she asks wondering whether she could take the watch and the chain as the man in red doesn’t seem to even notice them.
> 
> “Yeah, well I have some time to spare. The cops in this place are super slow,” the man sighs stretching his limbs as he jumps back up. Selina flinches first at the fast movement and then at the words.
> 
> “You called the cops? On yourself?” she asks furrowing her brows. 'Ah, great. Just what I needed. Can’t a woman just enjoy a glass of wine with her cats anymore? I hate this fucking town,' she thinks to herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy! So here is the next chapter. And boy is writing Deadpool exhausting in a way. Jeez. I also don't want to write things from his perspective because of the voices and all that jazz. I haven't decided if it's something I'm quite ready to explore yet. I think my version of Wade is really tame anyway. But this is all for shits and giggles.
> 
> Thanks a million if you've read this so far! I salute you

“No DNA matches. No records of anything. If his name really is Wade Wilson it’s almost like he would’ve just spawned here,” Bruce says trying the DNA-search once more for good measure, but the result was the same. Nothing. Ever since the man in red had appeared everything had happened so fast. Gotham’s underworld had fallen victim to a hurricane of attacks coming from left right and centre. The deaths of so many big criminals had been more than enough to rock the boat. All of them had an inkling that while it would perhaps mean the fall of Gotham’s corruption and black market as they knew it but it would also mark a beginning for a new era. New faces, new deals and new problems. Things could get better but for as long as any of them could recall, any changes of that calliper had usually just made them worse. Sometimes considerably. Because whether they or Gordon admitted, some - such as Falcone and Maroni - really knew how to rule with almost sophistication. Things got messy only when something unexpected happened. New people had to learn the gist of it and the learning process in this area of work was rarely pretty.

Now that they had caught Wade, everything had gone quiet. _Too quiet._

“Maybe he really is some super-secret spy and his files are just hidden away way deep somewhere,” Dick shrugs already given up on hope and he doesn’t blame Gordon for banging his head into a wall over the man calling himself the Merc with a mouth.

“That clown? Yeah right. And I’m the queen of England,” Damian retorts throwing a rock at the containment chamber they had locked the stranger into.

“I don’t know, Damian. You haven’t seen him fight. He is vicious to say the least. And have you seen the injuries on Jason? I’d hate to say it but I think he’s only here because he wants to be,” Grayson says stretching his limbs aching from all the standing around.

“I don’t believe anything he told us,” Damian frowns.

“I agree with Grayson. I think he’s here because he wants your help, Bruce,” Jason says appearing into the cave.

“Help? From Bruce?” Grayson repeats furrowing his brows.

“Yes. I overheard him interrogating someone about his friend. Spider-Man I think he called him.”

“He went through a lot of trouble just to get on my radar and he already seems to know awfully lot about all of us. Whatever it takes to get him as far away from Gotham as possible, I’m ready to do,” Bruce Wayne says looking at the computer’s screen fixedly as the Batcomputer analysed the man’s genome.

“I’m beginning to think that might be his plan in any case,” Todd says and Bruce frowns slightly.

“That much I’ve figured out,” the man says feeding the computer with a tissue sample from Wade’s finger he had received from Gordon earlier.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before. He has an aggressive cancer that seems to have spread everywhere but he is showing no symptoms,” the man speaks a bit distractedly as his eyes go over the flood of information on the displays. “He seems to have another mutation as well and from the looks of it, it’s the thing keeping him alive.”

“That’s wild. You have to show this to Drake. Bet he’d flip,” Grayson says looking at the microscope image of the man’s cells. “Is it like the Talons?”

“No. He is very much alive,” the older Wayne says, “and very much a human. He doesn’t seem to be an alien like Clark Kent.” Although in his years of fighting crime in Gotham City he had run into many peculiar things, an enhanced human was a first.

“You guys don’t actually believe him, right? I mean, from another dimension? Come on,” Damian tries again but Bruce doesn’t answer him. His blue eyes look contemplative enough to make Richard believe he is actually considering the story might be true.

“So we help him find his friend and then what? Even if he is telling the truth we have no means for getting him back to wherever the hell he came from,” Dick says.

“We check for any anomalies taken place in Gotham on the supposed date of his arrival. Check the news to see if there is something we’ve overlooked. If he really did come from some other dimension I’d really like to find out why there is such a portal in the first place. This S.H.I.E.L.D. he was talking about is after something. And I want to know what,” Bruce says eyes shooting up to look at the man who had broken in to a song in the containment chamber.

“So, what do we do?” Dick urges Bruce to continue.

“We find the Spider-Man.”

_A month ago,  
Somewhere in Metropolis_

“Oh, no, thank you so much Mrs. Thorul but it’s really all right,” Peter tries to argue but a third plate of food gets shoved under his nose anyway.

“You’re a growing man, please, it’s my pleasure. You’re a very charming boy. Unlike my son,” the woman’s voice starts all sweet but turns awfully sour at the mention of a son. Skeletons Peter really doesn’t want to let out of the closet, so he drowns his fork into the meatball pasta even though his stomach already feels on the verge of exploding.

“So, uh, this place is,” Peter pauses to inhale deeply, wondering if the woman is actually trying to kill him rather than help him albeit there were probably countless ways more likely to get the job done. Pasta doesn’t sound like a convincing method to a murder. “Metropolis? And it’s located in the North east?”

“Yes. Where are you from, dear?” the old lady asks sitting down for the first time during the two hours Parker had spent at her house and Peter takes a moment to study her face. She looks kind with her round face wrinkled with age and thin lips stretched into a genuine smile.

“Queens actually,” he says and the lady hums.

“Not so far away from home then, are you?”

Peter is distracted by a newspaper he spots on a counter and swallows with a lot of effort before speaking up. “Could I see that Newspaper, please?” He couldn’t probably even look at meatballs after this for at least weeks.

Daily Planet. Hadn’t heard about that. Superman? That’s also new. And what about the news story about a series of terrorist attacks in the big cities, the oldest of which date back a year. He hadn’t heard anything about those. On top of that he fails to see anything about Tony Stark’s slip up that had caused S.I. stocks to fall, which was obviously huge news, or about the ongoing negotiation about renewing some parts of the Sokovia accords.

Never had Peter Parker felt to be further from home. What on earth had he gotten himself dragged into now?

“I think your adorable outfit is clean. Now we just have to wait for it to dry,” the lady yells at him from somewhere outside the kitchen and Peter hadn’t even noticed her getting up. For an old woman with almost squeaky joints she moves like a real ninja. “But it is a funny get up. I could borrow you some clothes from my late husband. It’s not like he needs them anymore.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Thorul. I really do appreciate your kindness,” Peter yells back a bit distractedly as he is still flipping through the pages of the paper. He has to repeat himself three times.

“You say that now, but you haven’t seen his clothes yet. He wasn’t the most fashionable man on the face of earth, but I guess his clothes are a little less obtrusive than your Spider-costume,” the lady tells him chuckling as she lays some neatly folded clothes on to the table next to the spaghetti bowl Peter had bravely almost finished.

Not the way he had planned on spending his Saturday evening. Almost naked in a random old woman’s house eating an overdose of pasta. Things definitely could have been worse for sure. He could’ve been currently stood opposite to a very unhappy Nick Fury, or Mr. Stark or, oh god, both. And he could already hear Tony’s voice telling him how he had specifically warned him about getting himself associated with Wade Wilson.

But the thing was that Wade was like a mole on your face. When you first notice it, you freak out because you remember that one time you forgot to put on sun lotion and burned your skin and your internet browser confirms that it is most likely skin cancer. However, after realizing that it is just a mole and you’re not actually dying your shock fades and with time you just get used to it sitting there.

On second thought, Wade was maybe more like a tumour that is either completely harmless or then killing you slowly. Probably latter.

Settling on either option wouldn’t take away the fact that Peter had made a grave mistake on trusting Wade and was now paying for it.

He has no idea how to start disarming the situation, so he decides the best thing to do would be to go to Queens just to see for himself what to make of this place. Luckily Mrs. Thorul is kind enough to give him some money for a train ticket. And Peter tries to say no but damn if politicians would’ve been even half as persistent as she turns out to be, they would always get their way.

Yeah, so apparently Metropolis is a big city with over 11 million residents. There is no way Peter wouldn’t have heard about it before. Especially since it was located so close to New York and apparently a capitol of most of the drama going on. The technology is also slightly different, and he finds it almost difficult to operate both the cell phone he had loaned – to try call up some of the people whose numbers he recalls from memory (people such as Aunt May, Mary Jane, Gwen Stacy, Harry Osborn and even Deadpool) – and the computer in a library building, which he had spent an hour or two trying to locate. Sadly, all the numbers he had tried calling were either answered by someone else completely or then they weren’t even in use.

And no matter how many times he types resent political turns, the S.I., The Avengers or anything even relatively of importance in the browser’s search bar, he gets no results.

“Excuse me? Do you have any written works on the Arc reactor?” he asks a young girl on the desk just to please his inner geek screaming at him to find out whether a power source that efficient had been invented in wherever the hell he was.

“On what now?” the young woman asks looking embarrassed to admit she has no idea what an Arc reactor is.

“A Multi-Isotope Radio-Decay cell of sorts,” Peter explains. “About this size,” he shows with his hand and judging from the girl’s face he wasn’t making things any clearer to her. Quite the contrary.

 _Holy shit, Peter. If you get stuck here you’re going to win a Nobel-prize for sure,_ he thinks to himself suddenly feeling giddy thinking about himself as a top tier scientist. Maybe things weren’t all that bad but still he wonders how Aunt May would react to him disappearing.

“I take that as a no,” he says and the girl smiles.

“I’m sorry. I’ve never heard about that,” she says apologetically.

“No, it’s all right. Thanks for your help,” Peter says about to walk away but turns back. “Actually, could you help me find the train station? I need to get to Queens, but I have literally no idea where to catch the train and I don’t have a phone, so I can’t use a navigator. I’m like a tourist around here.” And while the girl draws him a map Peter makes a mental note to strangle Wade if he would ever see him again, which he surprisingly hoped to happen soon enough. In the meantime, should he get a job? Or, actually, _could_ he get a job? If he really was in an alternative universe, or something of sorts, from the States’ point of view he doesn’t exist. No records, no name, no nothing. The thought sent chills running down his spine as he thinks about himself as a stranger in his own home city. In any case he doubted he would meet endless amounts of nice old ladies just forcing kindness on him in the form of food and doing laundry. If the city was anything like the place Peter had grown to know, people with such generosity were hard to find.

“ _I’m sure it’s HYDRA, Webs. You have to come with me, Webs,”_ Peter mumbles to himself in his seat as he watches the tall skyscrapers turn into smaller buildings before the landscape shifting quite drastically into large fields and kilometres of treeline. He had loads of time to think about the situation at hand, but he still doesn’t know how to approach the problem. In fact, he had no idea what the problem is. And the saying _if you don’t know where you’re going, you won’t know when you get there_ feels very true.

 _You know, Peter, the next time Gwen Stacy asks you to watch a movie with her, just accept. How many times are you going to let Deadpool screw you over, man. Ultimately, this is your own fault. You should’ve known better than to trust that sweet talking lying unpredictable selfish annoying piece of shit,_ Peter thinks to himself.

He has no idea what S.H.I.E.L.D. had been after with the machinery he had stumbled upon with Deadpool and his means of finding out were pretty slim if he couldn’t find the red devil himself. But surely if S.H.I.E.L.D. had the ability to send him here they would also have the means to get him out. But only if they knew about him getting trapped in this place in the first place.

And relying on Wade Wilson to have been smart enough to tell someone about his little accident rather than coming to his rescue by himself. _Oh god_ , he was never going to see his home again.

But then again Wade wasn’t too big on subtlety so their visit most likely hadn’t gone unnoticed. Although Deadpool getting caught trespassing didn’t necessarily mean he was going to tell about giving their machinery a go. All that was assuming that the S.H.I.E.L.D agents hadn’t slaughtered the mouthy man on the spot they had first sighted him, which honestly isn’t a far stretch. Wade is a menace when he wants to be and neutralizing him straight on would definitely do more good than trying to find out his motives. So many variables and so little answers and it was seriously giving him a headache. Because when it came to Wade, he was full of surprises. Just that he rarely made those surprises too pleasant. Usually he amazed Peter by doing something far worse than Peter had even imagined.

He also has plenty of time to mourn the fact that most of his knowledge about history and pop culture has turned completely irrelevant. He had found out the sitting President’s name only an hour ago from a very outdated campaign poster glued to a lamp post in the Metropolis railway station.

Although his undying positivity reminds him that he has probably a lot of great movie classics to experience for the first time not even mentioning all the scientific researches and breakthroughs he could explore. But all in all, no number of good things were enough to make him forget just how much he wanted to get home. To listen to Harry make fun of him and to eat May’s cooking.

Peter’s train of thought is stopped by a wave of hysteria travelling through his fellow travellers and it doesn’t take him long to figure out what’s causing it. His heart starts pumping like crazy as he spots a man wrapped in explosives.

He starts coming up with a plan hoping he’d have plenty of time to feel sorry for himself later.

_Meanwhile in Gotham City, East End_

“If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a hundred times. I have no idea who you are talking about,” Selina Kyle says struggling to keep her normal _mysterious_ tone vanishing under the aggravation. She had had many ideas on how to spend her Saturday evening. Perhaps drinking some wine and watching television with the cats but sitting in a smelly windowless room certainly hadn’t been on the top of the list. But still there she was.

And from Falcone’s brother’s unhappy face she could tell it was going to be a long night. To add to the list of “comfortabilities” the wine she had managed to enjoy before getting the unwanted visitors was now reminding of itself. For a moment she toys with the thought of just letting it out wondering if the men would then buy her previous act of scared and vulnerable girl. But in the end peeing herself isn’t something she wants to draw from her bucket list.

“See, that’s where I disagree with you. Because a little bird told me you’ve struck a deal with him. And you gave out some information that really wasn’t yours to give,” the man says in a calm tone that sends chills running along her spine. The man rolls up the sleeves of his expensive shirt revealing an even more expensive looking watch and a gold chain.

“Is that so? Doesn’t spark up my memory, honey,” Selina answers knowing full well she is walking on thin ice.

“Are you calling me a liar, Catwoman?” The Falcone’s voice is low and menacing.

“That would be very unwise of me wouldn’t you say? I’m merely implying that perhaps your source of information might not be quite as reliable as you think,” she tells tuning down the sass from her response because getting shot wasn’t on her list of activities either.

“Oh, but it is. The thing is that when you have as much power as I have, people are very keen to take any chance to get their leg between the door,” the man grins the shittiest grin. Selina Kyle starts to think it might have been the Red Hood himself who had sold her out. Would surely explain why the man seems so pleased with himself. Because if that truly was the case the man interrogating her would already have the answers and was now just playing with his food.

Selina isn’t dumb and knows when she is cornered. With all the armed men around her escaping would be almost impossible. As a rule, she doesn’t like to regret things but in that moment she forgets this fact. Because she does regret making a deal with Red Hood. Although at the time the idea of Batman’s ally doing something behind his back had been way too juicy to pass.

Suddenly it gets pitch black and, in the darkness, she can hear the men around her talking in a panic. None of the voices able to decide whether to whisper or shout. Only after her dominant sense is out of the equation can she pick apart the stench: Cigars, mould, cement and fear.

“What the hell is this?” Falcone’s brother roars in fury getting back a series of _I don’t know, boss_ and other explanations.

“How many one dimensional for the sake of the story evil guy henchmen does it take to change a light bulb,” a weird voice croaks from somewhere in the room. From the echoes it’s hard to pinpoint exactly where the voice is coming from and Selina starts to work on the rope binding her wrists hoping she wouldn’t have to stick around long enough to find out. She knows she wouldn’t get another shot.

“What the hell is going on?” the Falcone’s voice breaks sounding so alarmed it makes Selina smile as the confidence had vanished completely. Selina knows the man has realized no one was coming to his aid as the guards outside the door had undoubtedly been taken care of. She really hopes the lucky turn of the events doesn’t have anything to do with the saying that cats have nine lives because she was beginning to run short. She would give this close call to luck instead.

“More than ten because this basement is still dark,” the voice says bursting out laughing before the delivery of the joke is done so that the last word turns almost incomprehensible. The laughter is followed by a grunt here and an _ooph_ there making the panic in the room rise.

“So, not big on humour? It’s okay. I think the joke works only with dead babies,” the voice says. Selina Kyle manages to get her hands undone but before she can get his feet untied the chair gets kicked down and turned so that she loses the direction of the door and the relatively small space is filled with shots from Falcone’s men’s semi-automatics’ bursts and a recognizable sound of a desert eagle’s singles.

She counts ten before the room goes silent again leaving the annoying tinnitus as the only sound she hears. Selina tries not to breathe as she undoes the rope binding her ankles to the legs of the rocky wooden chair. Just as she has freed herself as suddenly as the darkness had taken over, it lifts blinding her for a moment.

“Ah, eleven apparently. Great. You ruined the joke,” a man wearing red says raising his pistol to shoot the final thug who had been foolish enough to think their opponent had died.

The man grunts and collapses and for a while Selina considers playing dead but the man in red tucks the gun away hissing.

“You must be one hell of a scary cat-lady because I count 18 men. All armed. You sure you know what you’ve gotten yourself into?” the man asks and Selina grimaces to herself before getting up ever so slowly as she has no means of knowing the man’s intentions.

“Oh, don’t you worry about me. I know my way around but since you just killed Falcone’s dear little brother I’m guessing you’re either new in town or have an army of your own,” she answers trying her hardest not to glance at the gun lying about 20 centimetres from her left heel. She feels dizzy from the blow in the head she had received earlier so if a fight could be avoided, she’d rather do so. However, every muscle in her body is tense and ready to move at a second’s notice.

“Is toxic femininity a thing? Or is it something that applies only to males. You’re welcome for me saving your ass, cat-lady,” the raspy voice croaks and it almost hurts Selina’s ears.

“I doubt you came here to save me, but I guess I do owe you one,” she answers letting her posture relax slightly.

“That’s great because I’m actually looking for this one guy,” the man says squatting down next to the Falcone’s body to go through his pockets.

“You’re going to have to be a bit more specific than that,” Selina replies the corner of her mouth quirking up slightly.

“Male, white, probably in his thirties, not too handsome, has a weird emo phase going on,” the man describes under his breath.

“I don’t know. Still could mean practically anyone.”

“He wears a bat costume. Cape and all that shit. _Super gay._ Not that there’s anything wrong with being gay, I’m very open minded for a white male supremacist, but I don’t think that’s what he was going after when picking his look,” the man chuckles lazily pocketing a very thick stack of hundred-dollar bills before letting the beautiful leather wallet fall to the dead man’s bloodstained chest.

_Who the hell is this guy? And here I was thinking Penguin and the Joker were annoying. More comedians. Just what this place needs…_

“Don’t you think that the Bat-costume part is the most obvious thing to mention if you’re looking for the Batman,” she asks wondering whether she could take the watch and the chain as the man in red doesn’t seem to even notice them.

“Yeah, well I have some time to spare. The cops in this place are super slow,” the man sighs stretching his limbs as he jumps back up. Selina flinches first at the fast movement and then at the words.

“You called the cops? On yourself?” she asks furrowing her brows. _Ah, great. Just what I needed. Can’t a woman just enjoy a glass of wine with her cats anymore? I hate this fucking town._

“Yeah, well. I called them because these guys did a hit and run on their way here. Apparently calling in again and telling them I’ll take care of these guys myself didn’t really sit well with them. Although I do admit I might’ve overdone it a bit,” the man says looking around at the blood-splattered room. “So, I have an introduction to make. I’m a little nervous. How do I look?”

“Uh, you have something on your chest there,” Selina says pointing at one particularly nasty bullet hole and the man gazes down wiping the spot with his gloved hand as if it would do anything else than smear the blood all over. She doesn’t even want to ask how on earth the man was still alive. If she had learned something by heart it was not to stick her paws into other people’s business unless it contained something very valuable. She doubted the knowledge of the man’s ability to eat bullets would turn out to be useful.

“Oh well, no one is perfect.”

“I don’t know where the Batman is because we’re really not that chummy but there is a light on the roof of the GCPD station where they’ll undoubtedly take you. So, try lighting that up after you’re done with your life-sentence in prison,” she tells the man. Even though the guy is obviously nuts he had still saved Selina from a lot of trouble. “But now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d rather not wait the cavalcade to arrive. I have plans and going to jail isn’t one of them.”

“It was nice meeting you, sexy cat-lady,” the man in red says doing a snappy salute with his hand.

“Cat _woman_.”

“Deadpool.”

“Well, welcome to Gotham City,” she says giving the man in red her most charming smile, “ _Deadpool.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter wasn't too exciting. At least the part with Peter but I personally loved the idea of Peter been treated pasta by an old woman in Metropolis while Deadpool shoots almost twenty people in Gotham. So I left the part with Peter Parker in.


	4. Old habits die hard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yeah, so I have bad news and good news,” Grayson tells him clearing his throat.  
> “Shoot,” Jason says to the mic after toning down the audio drastically to make sure the voice wouldn’t carry itself to Wilson’s ears. Just in case.  
> “The good news is that we think we know where Spider-Man is,” Dick says sounding awfully gloomy considering this was supposedly the good news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huh. This turned out a bit darker than I intended but I didn't want to change it. So far this one has been the hardest one to write. But since I decided not to take this too seriously, I'm not going to loose sleep over the fact that I'm not completely happy with it (lies).  
> Anyway!  
> A HUGEEEEE thank you for reading this far! Yay♥

_The Batcave_

Jason curses himself for agreeing to staying in the cave to keep a watch on Deadpool. Damian was out of the question for obvious reasons and he understands why Timothy had refused point blank even though nobody had even asked him. But why it couldn’t have been Dick? – Now, _that_ he doesn’t understand.

Todd grabs a chair and drags it to the containment chamber and sets it in front of the thick plex-glass before sitting down on it deflating with a deep sigh.

“Why Gotham City? Why Bruce?”

“If you must know, he wasn’t my first choice. I actually went to Luthor first, but boy is he a piece of work. He was a little less keen on helping me and a little too keen on dissecting me and I’m awfully attached to my limbs, literally. And I figured since I’m technically on the goody two shoes’ side, I’d come here,” Deadpool answers with a tone that sounds like he is on the verge of falling asleep.

“So, you figured that by causing enough mayhem Bruce would do basically anything to get rid of you?” Jason asks but doesn’t really wait for Wade to answer and speaks up again just as the Mercenary goes to open his mouth: “Smart, I give you that. But why not just look for him yourself?”

“You think I haven’t tried? I’m used to looking for people who don’t want to be found, but he has no connections to anything. Pretty hard to track someone without a past. You think I have some kind of built in Spider-Man compass that just magically leads me to him? Newsflash: I’m a mercenary, not a magician,” Deadpool answers sounding all but a little offended by the question.

“And we are?” Todd crosses his arms leaning back on his chair.

“Are what?” he asks.

“Magicians?”

“Well, you’re all dressed like you’d be going to a kids’ birthday party to draw rabbits from a hat and blow some balloon animals, ~~although the Bat kind of looks like he might blow a little something more inappropriate if left unattended~~ , so is that so hard to believe?” Wade answers deadpan.

“You’re seriously not right in the head,” Todd grimaces at the joke as the image of Bruce doing something _very_ inappropriate at a kid’s birthday party takes over his mind like a storm for a second. “I don’t know. I think the most unbelievable thing in this whole situation is the fact that you even have a friend to begin with.”

“Yeah, well. I’m very persistent when it comes to befriending people whose butts look that cute in tights,” Wade smiles fondly, which was something Jason had found the man did whenever talking about this Spider-Man.

“Why didn’t you even try knocking on the door when you obviously knew Batman’s identity?” Todd changes the subject because even though he has more than enough time to spare he doesn’t wish to use it discussing other men’s butts. Or tights for that matter. The Merc, however looks a little displeased by the sudden change of subject but surprisingly enough answers anyway.

“I have – what is it called --,” Wade pauses to think, “plot convenient amnesia.”

“And in Wade- English dictionary that translates to you being the most horrible _superhero_ I’ve ever met. Just admit it, you love killing,” Jason tells him.

“Let’s not point any fingers here, Mr. don’t tell daddy I kill people,” Wade says doing just that. Pointing one accusing finger towards Jason who rolls his eyes.

“I do it because I have no choice. I don’t kill for my own amusement unlike you, psychopath,” he retorts.

“I like to use the term emotionally challenged,” Wilson says. “Sometimes things get a little out of hand. Like, you know, when you’re supposed to eat just one Cheeto and then suddenly you’ve finished the whole bag? Or when you tell yourself that you’ll drink just one beer but then end up drinking all of your money and selling your house to buy some more? Or watch just one episode of some Netflix-series and then suddenly you’ve snorted more cocaine than Lindsay Lohan and a black hairy guy is pounding your ass, while telling you to call him a cunt and you just take it wondering – _how I got from binge-watching a Netflix-series to this?_ Happens even to the best of us,” Wade speaks and with every sentence the confusion on Jason Todd’s face grows deeper. To him, it so far seems that everything got out of hand in Wade cuckoo-land.

“You had me there for a while but then lost me at Lindsay Lohan,” Jason admits leaning back on his chair to take a moment to collect himself. He wants to discuss the elephant in the room that had made him drag the chair in there in the first place.

“Speaking about killing. If you say as much as a word to anyone of them, you’re seriously going to wish you could die,” he snarls venomously. Lacking the confidence but making it up with the pure hatred he feels for the mouthy man.

“I suppose dying is scary to most people but that’s the one area of life where I have some highly embarrassing performance issues. If you find a pill to fix my dying-dysfunction, I promise, I will marry you,” Wade Wilson states humming _here comes the bride_ giving Jason all the time in the world to figure out another threat. It turns out he doesn’t need to. “I’ve been to prison before and there are two things I’ve learned: Squat when picking up soap and nobody likes snitches. So, your dirty lil’ secret is safe with me.”

“Don’t say it like that. That makes it sound like I have a boytoy somewhere and that’s just – ugh,” Jason scrunches his nose.

“Okay, since we now know you’re not hiding a toyboy anywhere, can I ask you something related to the same topic?” Wade asks rising up to sit on the metallic bed.

“No,” Jason says sternly and gets up from the chair.

“Do you really do kinky stuff with each other?” Deadpool asks anyway getting to his feet to take the few steps closer to Jason he could before being stopped by the plex-glass.

“Yes, we take turns to suck Bruce’s dick,” Todd answers apparently choking on his on sarcasm since the joke flies right pass Wade's hairless head.

“Really?”

“I can’t believe this is the first time you’ve actually paid attention to this conversation,” Jason frowns grabbing the back of the chair and beginning to drag it behind him as he leaves. The legs screech awfully against the floor leaving behind hollow echoes that make the ruckus so much worse.

“You didn’t answer my question. I need to know! For research purposes!” Wade yells after him making Todd seize on the spot and turn around. He doesn’t trust Wade at all and his presence alone was a ticking timebomb that could ruin everything he had worked so hard for. He has no intentions of letting Wade’s misfortune of misplacing his supposed friend turn to his own misfortune. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

“If I let you free, couldn’t you just get the hell out of Gotham city and never return?” he asks walking back to Wade and unlocks the electronically controlled lock. Jason can see it takes the man by surprise, but Wade doesn’t open the door. Instead he just leans his forehead against it chuckling.

“You said it yourself. I’m right where I want to be but I’m actually a bit curious as to why you hang out with these asshats if you’re betraying them left right and centre. Why don’t _you_ just leave and never come back?”

It’s not like the thought wouldn’t have crossed his mind but actually leaving turned out to be a lot harder than he had imagined. After dying his life hadn’t gotten a new meaning. Quite the contrary: Everything around him had turned trivial with the knowledge of what was waiting on the other side. Nothing. Perhaps that was the soul reason why his brain had been so persistent on hanging on to anything and everything familiar.

“What can I say? Old habits die hard,” he responds not enjoying how empty the statement sounds.

“Yeah, I know a thing or two about that,” the mercenary smiles a lopsided smile that makes Jason want to punch him.

 _“Red Hood? Do you copy?”_ Dick’s voice speaks from the Batcomputer and Jason runs to it hastily glad to have something else to think about.

“I copy, Grayson.”

“ _Yeah, so I have bad news and good news_ ,” Grayson tells him clearing his throat.

“ _S_ hoot,” Jason says to the mic after toning down the audio drastically to make sure the voice wouldn’t carry itself to Wilson’s ears. Just in case.

“ _The good news is that we think we know where Spider-Man is,”_ Dick says sounding awfully gloomy considering this was supposedly the good news.

“Well that was fast,” Todd hums furrowing his brows while an involuntary smile takes over his lips. They were one step closer to getting rid of Deadpool and it is honestly the greatest news he had heard in a long time.

“ _Remember the big company that was looking to strike a deal with Wade industries, LexCorp_?” Grayson asks. “ _They bought S.T.A.R labs_.”

“Okay? And what does this have to do with Spider-Man?” Todd asks sitting down on the leather chair and leaning his elbow on the armrest and his chin to his fist.

 _“Tim is sending you some files we received two hours ago from a person who worked at Gotham’s S.T.A.R. labs facility. Just see for yourself. We couldn’t decrypt all of it yet but the Batcomputer should be able to handle the rest in an hour or so,”_ Grayson says and sure enough Jason sees new folders on the desktop, which he proceeds to open flicking through everything Tim had already managed to unlock. He sees pages after pages of DNA analysis and window after another of videos and reports.  
He opens the video titled _test 1, S.T.A.R., San Jose_. In it, three men are in a small room with no furniture or decorations apart from an old hospital bed to which one of the men is tied to. The tied-up man gets injected with something and for tens of seconds everyone in the footage is so unmoving Jason isn’t sure if the image had just frozen.

“I don’t see how this is connected to the Spider-Man,” Jason Todd speaks up trying to swallow down the nauseating wave climbing up his throat. He is lying. He knows what Dick Grayson is thinking and understands his unwillingness to say it out loud when on the video, out of nowhere, the tied man starts twitching violently on the bed. His mouth opening wide to a scream of pain Jason could almost hear despite the video having no audio. His skin starts changing turning greenish while blood begins flowing heavily from the test subject’s nose and ears painting the white gown and the wrinkled sheets under him.  
Todd can’t almost bear to look at the fear on the man’s face that is visible even from the relatively bad resolution image. When the subject goes completely still again the two men in white coats start writing something on their clipboards. A fourth man, who wasn’t wearing a white jacket like the other two, steps into the room just as the clip ends leaving Jason wondering who the man had been. He can’t help also wondering how much pain the tied man had had to suffer before dying. Had he been a volunteer? With that the amount of similar looking clips make his stomach turn. There must’ve been at least fifty if not more. Had the others watched all of them?

 _“Spider-Man was in Metropolis. Bruce managed to track his movements to this illegal fighting ring in Queens but after that the trail went cold again. The surveillance camera footage shows him getting into an elevator but not exiting it,"_  Grayson says letting out a deep sigh he had probably been keeping in a while.  _“If you look at the DNA analysis you can see there are several mutations in the genes and it’s not a far fetch to assume they were taken from Wade’s friend. If this is true we have no way of knowing whether he’s alive or not. We have to go through every file to see if he’s in there somewhere and judging from what we’ve seen so far it isn’t going to be pretty. If he turns out to be deceased, Wade Wilson can’t find out. The only thing keeping him in track is his will to save his friend and that’s an edge we can’t afford to lose if we want to find out what SHIELD is after.”_

_Metropolis airspace_

“Jason?” Grayson repeats the name upon getting no answer. “Are the communications online? I’m not sure I’m getting through,” he says glancing at Tim who checks his laptop before nodding.

 _“Sorry, he’s a bit busy getting his ass kicked but would you like me to take a message?”_ the line answers but the voice isn’t Jason’s.

_Three weeks ago, Queens_

“Hey, look, buddy. I don’t even want to be here. So just give me the money and I’ll be on my merry way. I won fair and square,” Peter tells the man in front of him groaning with frustration.

“I know you won but do you really call that a show? It was like two seconds and you knocked our champion out,” the man answers sounding awfully pissed.

“Okay, so give me two thirds and keep the rest, whatever. But I really need to leave now,” Peter says starting to feel the urgency as he glances the clock on the wall above the man’s receding hairline. The cops would be there any minute thanks to the anonymous tip Peter had given. He knows full well he is basically shooting himself on the leg by busting the illegal gambling, but his conscience couldn’t handle him just taking the dirty money and leaving.

“What’s the rush, boy?” the man asks him suspiciously.

“Past bedtime, I’m sure you understand. Just give me the money and you’ll never have to hear from me again. I swear,” he says smiling a smile he tries to keep charming, but the man isn’t buying whatever he is selling.

“I don’t think you understand how this business works, kiddo,” the man tells him reaching to the top drawer and Peter doesn’t have to hear any more. He has already been there. He isn’t planning on replaying the scene so instead he uses the webshooter he had hidden under his hoodie’s sleeve to glue the man’s hands on the desk as well as his mouth shut before taking the stack of money from the table. He glances at the clock several times when he counts the stack placing one third back on the table as promised even though the police would most likely confiscate it in any case.

“Sorry about that. Don’t worry, it’ll dissolve in two hours,” he says flashing another quick smile before leaving the office.  
“Sir, sir,” he greets the guards as he exits the room closing the door behind him ever so casually. He doesn’t get very far on the narrow hallway before they figure out something is wrong. So, when he hears the office door opening he starts running.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he huffs under his breath as he pushes the elevator button repeatedly as if it would make it function faster. His webslingers are empty seeing as he had just stupidly used the last of the solution on the possibly least threatening man in the building.  
“ _Hurry up, I don’t have time stick around_ ,” Peter mumbles to himself still pressing the elevator call button.  
He really doesn’t want to find out what the authorities would do with him if they caught him.

_Bet they’ll think I’m some commie spy from Russia. It’s always the commies. Spider-Man by night and a communist spy by day. Yikes. No thanks._

“Better come back now, kid!” he hears the other guard roar after him. Luckily the elevator dings and the metallic doors open. He slips in turning to face the hallway where the two men were closing in an alarming rate, both going for their guns. He presses the button to the first floor watching the scene in front of him disappear behind the closing doors.

He is about to let out a sigh of relief before his spideysense alarms him of movement next to him. And there is indeed a man he hadn’t even noticed when entering the elevator. They share an awkwardly long look that makes Peter want to break the silence just to breathe easier in the tension.

“Peter Parker, I presume?” the bold man asks smiling.

 _Oh no_ , Peter’s brain screams before he can even begin to contemplate the man’s intentions. Every muscle in his body tenses to the max as the man moves even though everything he does is so slow and elegant Peter’s not sure what to make of it. The man’s hand reaches inside the chest of the classy suit jacket and Parker’s instincts kick in. Before he even realizes, he has seized the hand by the wrist, which results in another awkward staring competition that makes seconds seem like hours. Peter’s heart is pumping adrenaline into his system so quickly it almost makes his vision blurry. His eyes slide down the man’s face, travel along his neck and pause at the chest only to notice the man hadn’t drawn a gun like he had thought but a napkin. He lets go of the wrist like it would’ve suddenly turned poisonous and scoffs looking down.

“Sorry, I’m a little on edge. Have we met?” Could the man have met Deadpool? No. That’s stupid. He isn’t wearing his Spider-Man suit.  
Or better yet be one of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s agents finally coming to his rescue?

The man huffs a laughter taking his time to fold the plain white napkin a couple of times with care. “It’s all right. And no, I don’t think we’ve been officially introduced.” The man pauses to place the napkin on his mouth and nose, but he doesn’t sneeze. Just keeps it in place. “Let's just say I'm a friend of a friend.”

_So, not an agent. Of S.H.I.E.L.D. at least._

Peter is about to answer but a silent click draws his attention to the other hand resting at the man’s side that is holding a small round object, which starts to emit some kind of gas with a soft hissing. His senses dial up to 11 right away as his fight or flight instinct kicks in stronger than ever. The panic however, is short lived.  
The instant the gas hits his nose, it feels like his lungs turn to steel. The quick pulse slows down alarmingly fast and his legs start to feel week. Suddenly he is a visitor in his own body without any control over his limbs. He can just simply look at the man in a fancy grey suit standing there as his body starts collapsing. From his point of view the man looks like a mountain in his crumbling world. Peter tells himself to move over and over again, but it makes no difference. Peter Parker feels like a spirit imprisoned inside a dead corpse as he’s not even sure if he had any limbs because he surely couldn’t feel them at all. This could be it. His doom and he was staring it helplessly in the eyes.

“Don’t worry. This won’t hurt,” the man speaks into the napkin and his watchful eyes pore deep into Peter’s own. Confident, cold and determined.

Everything starts spinning nauseatingly. His ears start ringing and sight gets foggy making the man’s outlines mix with the background. The last thing he feels is a soothing warmness embracing his insides as everything goes dark. With that the alarms in his head go silent leaving only the gentle hum of the elevator.

“Your friend told me a lot about you, Spider-Man.”

Everything is calm.


	5. Past demons resurrecting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t be like that. I’m not attacking you or Jason. I’m just trying to say that even if your paths drift apart, it’s not the end of the world. No one is dying, Dick,” she ends softly grabbing Grayson’s hand.  
> “Except for Jason who is with that lunatic,” Dick retorts coldly enough for Barbara to finally take the hint and give up. In all honesty he isn’t too worried. If Deadpool wanted Jason dead he probably would’ve done it back at the cave.  
> “Okay, so what’s the plan?” she asks letting go of the warm hand that had balled into a fist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hjello! Some drama ensues.  
> Sorry about the lack of Deadpool and Spidey, I'll make it up to you in the next chapter. Jesus Christ I love writing this, haha.
> 
> THANK YOU FOR READING♥♥

_Gotham City, West Chelsea Hill_

James Worthington Gordon looks over the crime scene in thought as men mark evidence with small cones and take pictures to archive.

John Swayne, age 48. Killed by a gunshot wound to the head. A clean job, a clear and calculated shot right between his eyes. Undoubtedly done by a professional. The man is lounging back on his chair by the kitchen table like a rag doll. An unfinished plate of Indian curry and vegetables in front of him.  
James frowns as his eyes gets glued to the golden-haired boy seated on the chair next to John Swayne. Face buried in his own cartoon themed children’s plate. One awfully similar to the one Gordon remembers buying Barbara when the girl had had trouble finishing her porridge. The girl had eaten the plate clean every morning for months just to look at the picture hidden under the disliked food.

The light curls on the boy’s forehead are stained with curry sauce and blood.

Alex Swayne, age 6. Also killed by a shot to the head.

Gordon remembers so vividly when he had first transferred to Gotham City with his pregnant now ex-wife, Barbara’s mother. How he had dreaded every day that he would arrive home to a very similar scene. To see her wife’s beautiful face pale and blue eyes staring blankly as a trail of blood would split them in half prisoning the horrified expression.

With that thought in mind his eyes fall down to the floor level to examine the last victim. A woman laying spread out on the parquet. An outstretched hand resting under the seat where her son lays unmoving.

Mary Swayne, age 34. Shot twice. Once in the chest before receiving a finishing blow that had pierced through her frontal lobe. It’s clear the man had been the first one to fall a victim and the woman instead of covering to hide, had gone to the child’s rescue. Gordon would’ve done the same. He would take a bullet for Barbara without a second thought. But he takes comfort in the fact that it all had most likely happened fast, and the kid hadn’t had the chance to panic. Only a brief moment before the calm as the boy had been shot to the head while watching his mother run to him, horror fresh on her movements.

“I called his workplace and what’d ya know. The poor bastard suddenly resigned yesterday. He had been in a hurry and the forensics found three plane tickets to Europe,” Harvey Bullock states with his low voice showing his notes and pen back to his pocket. Jim doesn’t reply but lets out a small hum to signal he had heard just as Bullock goes to repeat himself.

“How old is your kid again?” he asks eyes shifting to study Harvey using the horrifying scene as a frame to his chubby face.

“Turns fifteen in, “Bullock pauses to take a look at his watch that is ticking steadily towards midnight, “four hours or so.”

“You going to take tomorrow off to celebrate?” Gordon asks although he doesn’t really care. He just needs a distraction from his own dark thoughts.

“Nah. Transferred 50 bucks to her account. She is throwing a birthday party at her friend’s house on Saturday. Kids that age don’t want to celebrate with their parents anymore. They grow up so fast these days. I feel like just yesterday I was her hero and then I had to drop her off one block away from her school, so I wouldn’t embarrass her,” Bullock talks lacking all the emotion such wistful words usually carried.

 _The one’s that are lucky enough to grow up. Rest in peace Alex Swayne,_ Jim thinks to himself.

“Besides she is at her mom’s place in Manhattan right now,” the man adds, and Gordon furrows his brows.

“Have you and Molly divorced?” he asks slightly more interested in the topic and Bullock chuckles placing a cigarette to his lips. James wants to bum one. His nerves had been stretched to their limits during the past month and he had bought multiple packs of cigarettes from the store but had managed to not smoke any. His mind always returned to Barbara’s worried eyes that followed him everywhere after the heart attack he had suffered in January. _Do it for her, Jim._

“Two years ago, actually,” Harvey answers his question. “Don’t sweat it, Jimmy. We’ve been working together for so long that sometimes you forget to ask.”

“I suppose you’re right. One of these days I’ll take you up on your offer to buy me a beer on Finnigan’s*,” James flashes a hollow smile and he is just talking for the sake of talking and Bullock is used to it by now, so he just nods curtly and pats Jim’s shoulder before leaving the room.

James follows his trails outside soon after a cigarette once again haunting his mind. The air outside is just as stuffy as it had been in the tiny crowded apartment, but it still feels fresh without the smell of blood and curry. He doesn’t like Indian food.

Instead of smoking he calls Barbara.

“Hi sweetheart, did I wake you up?” he asks upon hearing incoherent mumbling from the line.

“ _Is something wrong, dad?”_ she asks instantly, and the tone has shaken most of the sleepiness off in these two seconds it takes her to realize who had called.

“No, I just wanted to call you that this might be an all-nighter, so don’t get worried if I’m not home when you wake up,” James says disliking the fact that he so rarely called her just because and it was all the more apparent with her instant concern.

“ _What’s happened?”_ she asks even though she knows Jim doesn’t want to bring work home.

“Nothing unusual. I’m headed to the office now but in the morning, I’ll have to drop by S.T.A.R. labs on behalf of this investigation and I figured it’s by the donut shop you used to love. Would you like me to bring you the strawberry sprinkled one?”

Barbara’s laughter calms his aching heart like a drug.

“ _Sure, daddy. I would love that,”_ she says, and Jim can hear that she is smiling.

“See you in the morning, honey.”

“ _Don’t overwork yourself, okay?”_ Barbara tells him in the form of a question. It was something her mother used to do as well way back when.

“Honey?”

_“Yes?”_

“I just wanted to tell you that,” for some reason the words get stuck on his throat as he once again sees Barbara’s face floating in a puddle of blood. “I love you.”

 _“Are you sure everything is all right?”_ she asks after telling him she loves him back and James Gordon makes a mental note to reconnect with her as he had promised himself in the hospital back in January. This time he would follow through.

_Wayne manor_

“Was it Gordon?” Grayson asks as soon as Barbara hangs up and the girl nods in response.

“I’m worried about him. Working non-stop in this heat. If he doesn’t get another heart attack it’ll be a miracle. Especially now that commissioner Loeb is out of the picture until they finish the inside investigations,” Barbara says twirling her red curls around her finger as she does occasionally when she is nervous.

“So he landed the place of commissioner for the time being after all? Good for him,” Tim Drake chimes in as he walks through the doorway to the living room.

“No, Timothy. Not good. I can’t remember the last time he’s slept at home. One day I went by the station to find him sleeping on his desk,” the girl frowns and Tim backpedals his excitement for her sake.

“But if the current commissioner is forced to resign it would be good for us to have the new commissioner on our side,” Bruce speaks making Dick flinch. He had been silent for so long they had almost forgotten he was in the room with them.

“Sure, but he is no use to anyone dead,” Barbara Gordon says sourly. “Besides Marion Grange* opposes firing Gillian Loeb to the very last breath and from where I’m looking dad isn’t exactly popular inside the forces seeing as he was a big part of the reason for the government to clean the forces in the first place. He is running low on people to back him up.”

They all fall silent for a moment while Dick wonders how he had forgotten all about the ongoing situation in the light of recent events. No wonder Barbara had been so on edge because unlike the rest of them she had more stakes at hand.

“But let’s not discuss it now,” she says eventually grabbing her tea that had undoubtedly gone cold by now. “Bring me up to speed with the Spider-Man case.”

“If we believe Wade Wilson, his name is Peter Parker. Judging by all the surveillance footage I’ve seen and the news reports that can be linked back to him with almost certainty, he is definitely an enhanced human just like Wade. So at least that part of the story checks out” Bruce Wayne says.

“Yeah. He stopped a moving train with his bare hands,” Damian says unable to hide his excitement.

Timothy turns his laptop’s screen to Barbara to show an image he had saved from the surveillance feed and Barbara leans in to examine it.

“He is very handsome,” she says smiling and Dick knows she does it to lighten the mood but that doesn’t stop him from feeling jealous.

“Objectively speaking, yes, you could say that,” Timothy laughs gaze hurrying to glance at Grayson’s sour face.

“So, Manhattan?” Barbara says turning back to Bruce.

“According to Wilson he was born and raised there so it wasn’t exactly hard to guess that’s where he’d go. Three weeks ago, almost to the day, Peter Parker gets involved in some illegal gambling in one of the infamous fighting circles in underground Queens. He steals money from the man running the show and starts to leave in a haze. The footage ending on him getting into an elevator and he seemingly just vanishes into thin air never making it out. There is no doubt that the video wouldn’t have been tampered with,” the older Wayne recaps crossing his fingers together to make a bed for his chin. “One of the guards gave me a description of a man that is completely missing from the tapes and I have a reason to believe that man is Lex Luthor.”

“Lex Luthor? As in the founder of LexCorp, Lex Luthor?” Barbara asks sitting up properly. “Why him? Out of any other person? How would he even know to look for Spider-Man?”

“It’s possible that Wilson went to Luthor before getting to Gotham city. His story had a lot of gaps I’ve been unable to fill. But what comes to LexCorp: I spoke with Lucius Fox since he did a lot of research on the company when Luthor wanted to unite forces with Wayne Enterprises last year. And despite LexCorp’s seemingly impeccable reputation it’s involved with known criminal associations and some highly questionable people such as the man running the illegal gambling Parker got himself mixed with,” Bruce explains not hurrying and even goes to pause his sentences to ponder something and Dick could see Barbara was getting impatient with the thirst of knowledge.

 _Highly unadvisable_ Bruce Wayne recalls Lucius telling him upon the discussion of striking a deal with Lex Luthor. _Wayne Enterprises would do good not to be associated with such actions_ the man had also told him and Lucius was someone enjoying the full trust of the Batman. He trusted the man almost as much as Alfred Pennyworth and that was saying a lot.

“From what I hear, he had been particularly interested with our gene tech, which was a bit odd to begin with,” Bruce speaks again.

“Gene technology? Isn’t LexCorp big on transportations and constructions and such?” the girl furrows her brows in confusion and Dick loves the way her eyes start wandering in the neatly decorated room as if she would find answers there. He places his hand on Barbara’s knee rubbing the soft fabric of her sweatpants with his thumb.

“Exactly what got Lucius suspicious too. In any case, S.T.A.R. labs is now owned by LexCorp,” the Bat states, “and yesterday an anonymous concerned employee contacted the Batman from Gotham’s S.T.A.R. lab facility. Sending us a whole lot of classified information.”

“They are doing some kind of human experiments,” Damian intervenes apparently after growing bored of hearing about things he already knew about.

“Oh god,” Barbara gasps lifting her hand to cover her mouth. “So, what you’re saying is that you think Lex Luthor is trying to make some sort of superhumans with Spider-Man’s genes?”

“It would seem that way. And what is even more concerning, I found evidence of the information being sold to a source outside the U.S.. More specifically, to a known terrorist organisation.”

“This is so much bigger than we thought. Can we even do anything about that? I mean we’re talking about a multimillion company and a terrorist organisation. That’s not exactly busting a cartel in Gotham. This sounds like a job for the FBI or the CIA,” she says voice faltering slightly.

“I already forwarded the information to central intelligence,” Dick says looking to soothe her mind.

“But how certain are we that this is connected to Peter Parker?” she asks after grabbing the hand on her knee.

“I managed to gather some DNA from the building Peter Parker was last seen. It was three weeks old, so it was imperfect, but it is a partial match with the analysis we found on the files,” Wayne answers.

“Yeah, so we’re like ninety-nine percent sure,” Tim clarifies.

“Okay, but it’s not like S.T.A.R. labs was sold over night, right? And LexCorp had been interested in expanding to other areas as well way before the two of them supposedly getting here. I know Luthor must be a highly intelligent man but things like these take time. Could Peter being here be just an unhappy coincidence and we’re just forcing the pieces together?” Barbara airs the thoughts going through Bruce’s mind as well. “And what happens to Peter Parker if the CIA finds him?” she asks, and Dick can feel her hand is getting sweaty as her face twists with concern. Her stress starting to get the better of her.

“Given that Luthor is a known critic of Superman and any other known so-called superhero, I’d say it is very likely he has eliminated Parker by now,” Wayne replies leaning back on his chair. “We have made a lot of assumptions and guesswork. Even though we have some evidence to back it up there is still a lot to unravel. However, I agree with Barbara. This is way past our territory. Our main objective is to track down Wade Wilson before he gets a chance to kill the CIA’s investigation on its roots. He is a loose cannon.”

“And the fact that he has Jason is just a minor detail?” Dick Grayson asks incredulously making Tim Drake shrink on his seat. He had witnessed Bruce and Grayson fight each other too many times.

“Hold up!” Barbara interrupts before the conversation got the chance to get side-tracked. “Deadpool is on the loose? How exactly did that happen?”

“I made a miscalculation in trusting Jason,” Bruce says and looks out of the big window as he spots the Bat signal luminating the dark clouds that would finally promise rain after a month of drought. Damian smiles gleefully at the statement and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Dick. Perhaps Damian knew something about Jason the rest of them didn’t.

“Damian, gear up. You’re coming with me,” Bruce says getting up and Damian jumps to his feet grinning widely.

“Finally! Some action!”

Bruce and Damian Wayne exit the room while the three remaining watch them.

“Holy hell Bruce was intense. What on earth did Jason do?” Barbara asks the instant their footsteps fade. Her voice is low. She lifts her legs on the couch crossing them and turns her whole body to face Dick.

“Honestly? I have no clue. He basically just let Deadpool go,” Grayson answers and Barbara’s inquiring look turns to Timothy who just shrugs unwilling to touch the subject.

“Is that all the explanation I deserve?” the girl asks wiping some loose strands of hair from her face.

Dick has a hunch that asking Damian would bring light to the situation, but he really doesn’t want to concern Barb with the idea.

“And how come Bruce didn’t seem even a little worried about the fact that Deadpool has apparently kidnapped Jason?” Timothy mutters distractedly. Eyes glued to the laptop’s screen.

“Because he doesn’t trust him that’s why. Has neither of you honestly noticed that something weird is going on? Because he sure has. And I’m willing to bet that Bruce sees this as Jason betraying us,” the girl says and both Timothy and Grayson just blink at her. “Or him, I suppose,” she adds cutting the sharp corners from her previous statement.

“For supposed detectives you guys can be seriously bad sighted at times. Have you seen the way he looks at Todd? Or how he talks to him, which he doesn’t really do that much. He is keeping his distance. Bruce isn’t stupid and paranoia is rarely something he falls a victim to. Honestly, I don’t blame him for not trusting Jason. Ever since he returned from the dead it’s like I don’t even recognize him anymore,” Barbara talks her voice getting stronger with every word and she gets a little flustered. Grayson doesn’t like where this is headed.

Jason returning from beyond the grave had made Dick realize just how high the Bat family really stood on his list of priorities. He had even come back from Jump City to reconnect with them but it was beginning to look as if things would never return to as they were. The bat family was breaking apart.

“I’m sorry, I know this is a tough topic for you guys, but I lost him too back then. Still, we can’t just keep turning a blind eye to the fact that he just isn’t the same anymore. You two are too busy pretending that he is to see it. Bruce, on the other hand, reflects on his past mistakes a lot and Todd’s death,” Barbara’s eyes close when he pauses to take a deep breath to keep her voice from shaking, “is his biggest one. For that reason he is so hyper aware of how much of him _didn’t_ come back to life.”

“Let me stop you right there,” Grayson speaks up. “This ongoing situation has nothing to do with that. What’s important right now is that we find him. I’m not going to throw him under a bus just because he’s changed. Because that’s what people do, Babs, change.”

“I’m not suggesting we should. Just listen to me. Even if -- _when_ we find Todd, it’s not going to make things between you guys any better. We’re not just kids anymore. You, Damian, Bruce and Jason have all gone through so much trauma in your life and the fact of the matter is that time doesn’t heal all wounds. You’re right that the appearance of Wade has nothing to do with this, but it has just brought up these problems stronger than ever. I’m not saying he’s evil, but you can’t rebuild trust on lies,” the girl says looking at Drake for support.

“I kind of agree with her. Something weird is definitely going on with Todd,” Drake admits a little unwillingly.

“Is this really the time to discuss this? We have our hands full without making up demons that don’t exist,” Grayson says rejectingly even though he understands her and maybe even agrees with her. Still, there is the little voice in his head, nagging him that he owes Jason that much. Or maybe he was looking for some karmic retribution for being jealous of Todd for so long and secretly even despising him for taking his place as the new Robin. Whatever the reason is the voice is stubborn and stuck on a loop in his brain making him unable to think clearly

“Don’t be like that. I’m not attacking you or Jason. I’m just trying to say that even if your paths drift apart, it’s not the end of the world. No one is dying, Dick,” she ends softly grabbing Grayson’s hand.

“Except for Jason who is with that lunatic,” Dick retorts coldly enough for Barbara to finally take the hint and give up. In all honesty he isn’t too worried. If Deadpool wanted Jason dead he probably would’ve done it back at the cave.

“Okay, so what’s the plan?” she asks letting go of the warm hand that had balled into a fist.

“I don’t know about you guys but I’m going to bed because apparently none of us knows when to sleep or eat without Alfred telling us,” Tim yawns closing the laptop. “Did you know that it’s the brain that needs sleep most and not the muscles like so many people think? Because when we sleep our brain organizes the new information, discards the useless things and cleans itself. Maybe things will seem clearer after a good night’s rest.”

Dick chuckles softly. “You sound a bit like Alfred.”

“In that case I’m going to head out. I have a breakfast date with my dad and a strawberry sprinkle donut,” Barbara smiles at Dick a little unsurely. Grayson swallows his new-found aggravation towards her and leans in to kiss her softly on the lips.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t want to stay over?” he asks hand landing on Barbara’s thigh and Tim takes this as his que to leave.

“You’re sweet, Richard,” the girl says rubbing his stubbed chin gently, “but not as sweet as a strawberry sprinkle donut.

Just as the mood had gotten a little lighter it gets ten times worse when up in his room, Tim picks up his phone to answer a call from an unknown number.

Timothy just stares blankly ahead, his phone on his ear. Listening very closely to the line. He can feel anxiety take over his body and the injury Deadpool had inflicted on him a while back was starting to ache. It is psychosomatic, he knows but it doesn’t make the pain any less real.

“Please don’t do this. You have no idea how much damage you could cause. Just come back, Jason,” Tim tells him hurrying to open his laptop in order to trace the call. If he could track Jason down now, maybe he and Grayson could go get him without telling Bruce about it. His heart is beating out of his chest and he tries to actively calm himself down so that Jason wouldn’t get suspicious.

 _“If you help me out, it’ll be a clean job. We get in, grab Parker and get out,”_ Jason tells him sounding confident in his plan.

“The risks are too high. It’s not worth it. Especially since we don’t know if he’s still even alive. You have to bring Deadpool back here before he does irreversible damage,” Drake tells him circling around the whole truth hoping it would be enough to spark Jason’s interest. To keep him on the line long enough.

 _“I’m doing this, Tim. With or without you. I can either do this my way, which requires your help, or Deadpool’s way, which isn’t going to be pretty. I’ll give you until tomorrow to think. But choose wisely because this can go down neatly or in flames,”_ Jason says before hanging up and Tim closes the laptop’s lap cursing to himself. His head is working overtime to comprehend what had just happened. First of all the shock of finding out Barbara and Bruce had been right about Jason siding with Deadpool. And secondly, about the fact that Jason had just ultimately made Tim feel personally responsible for the possible future chaos caused by Deadpool. Or at least he had tried to do just that. Jason is trying to manipulate Tim and he knows it. That’s all the more reason for him to hate the fact that it was definitely working.

Drake sits down on the edge of his bed fidgeting with the phone in his hands.

Does he trust Jason enough to believe him he has good intentions? And more importantly: Was having good intentions enough?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * A bar popular with uniformed police officers in Gotham.  
> *Gotham City's current mayor


	6. #daddyissues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I got this Mr. Stark,” he says poking the hole he had created on Tony’s emotional wall.  
> “I can’t even begin to describe how untrue that is. This game you’re playing with him could have gone south at any given time,” the man says staring straight into Peter’s soul it seems.  
> “Yeah. But it hasn’t. Besides, you can’t make an omelette without breaking any eggs, right?” Peter says smiling and regrets it instantly after seeing the reception. He raises his hands on either side of his head as an ‘I take that back’. “Look, you don’t have to trust him, but I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhhhh? So remember when in chapter three Peter tried to google some shit about S.I. stocks falling? Yeah, me neither(I actually do :<) I was going to have the reason briefly mentioned and this conversation was supposed to be short and sweet but apparently I listened to too dramatic music while writing and this happened.  
> Yeah, okay. Just roll with it. Cool? Cool.  
> I feel like there's a lot of things going on simultaneously. Sorry about that, haha.  
> And I wanted to give you a heads up that the next chapter is going to have sexual content so beware.

_A week before that fateful day, Queens_

“Hi Peter,” a familiar voice greets him as soon as the young man in question steps one foot in the living room. The pleasant voice has masterfully disguised the disappointment with a light-hearted tone and Peter can already tell it’s not going to be good. But then again it was hardly ever a good sign when Tony Stark was sat in his house. Still, there he was sticking out like a sore thumb in the old apartment with his expensive suit and accessories.

“Tony Stark came to meet you,” aunt May tells him unnecessarily but her statement is followed by a “why-is-he-here”-look that is barely subtle enough to go unnoticed by their guest who shifts his watchful eyes on her for a fleeting moment.

“Hi Mr Stark. For what do I owe the pleasure?” Peter manages with a casual – or at least quite casual – tone. He lets his backpack fall to the floor next to his feet with a soft thump.

“Great to hear it’s a pleasure, Parker, since from the way you’ve quite successfully been avoiding my calls I was kind of worried you didn’t fancy talking to me,” Stark says warningly his disguise faltering just the tiniest bit, which is enough to make May give Peter another questioning look. Parker is about to protest to salvage the situation, but Tony is quicker.

“Thankfully your lovely aunt here, “his eyes turn pleasant and warm as he looks at the woman and Peter takes advantage of Tony’s shifting attention to answer May’s silent question with a particularly wide-eyed look and a shrug, “was kind enough to let me wait here for you.”

“Right, well I-uh—”

“If I could have a word with you,” the man saves Peter from himself and he almost goes to thank Tony in his haze but thinks better of it before the words leave his mouth. A long and awkward silence lands upon them while Peter and May have a silent discussion that Tony pretends not to notice. He sits there rather patiently until the woman ends it with a classic motherly look that could be anything from ‘I want to strangle you’ to ‘please eat your vegetables, dear’. Tony suspected the first and Peter hoped it was the latter.

“Oh, I was leaving anyway. I have a date, so you two boys behave,” May says finally as she is getting up. She flashes a smile to Tony and then goes to kiss Peter’s forehead after grabbing her purse, “there’s dinner in the fridge.”

“Are you going to be late?” Peter asks and May gives him the look that says ‘possibly but don’t even dream of doing anything stupid.’ Peter tries so hard to prolong the exit of the third party, but May is getting ready at an alarming rate and he can’t come up with any excuse to prevent her from leaving. From his peripheral vision he can see Tony staring at him and he tries his best not to notice.

Both their eyes follow her until her figure disappears through the door slamming it shut behind her. The instant Peter feels Tony’s eyes back on him and his whole body feels tense as if the gaze alone would be capable of hurting him. The air around him had suddenly turned solid and unbreathable.

“Have you any idea who you’re dealing with, kid?” Stark begins, and the tone makes the idea of Tony once asking him to actually join the avengers like a distant dream. They weren’t equals but instead Peter had opinions and Tony the facts. The man makes it pretty darn clear they stand on different ends on the authority list.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Peter says bravely holding on to the part of this sentence that isn’t a blatant lie. He doesn’t read minds, so he could not know for sure, but he has a pretty strong hunch he was about to have his ass handed over. And by a hunch he meant it was all nines up to a hundred decimals.

“This,” Stark says throwing something at Peter who catches the object by instinct. It’s a small clear plastic bag with ice in it and something red-

“Oh my god,” he gasps dropping the bag, “I-is that real?”

“I thought your friend might want it back. Maybe he would want a trade as he took something of mine,” Tony says watching Peter carefully as the young man frowns in disgust as he picks up the bag from the floor. He does recognize the scarring on the skin and the fact that the severed hand was frozen in mid flip off was just further proof that it definitely belonged to Wade Wilson a.k.a Deadpool.

“Something of yours? H-he broke in to your house?” Peter asks. “How?”

“I was kind of hoping you’d tell me,” Tony replies. “You have to stop associating yourself with him.”

The struggle between Spider-Man and Peter Parker had gotten only harder with time. The more he spends time in the suit the harder it becomes to take it off. Because Spider-Man wasn’t bound by Parker’s insecurities, fears and social struggles.  
Never had he imagined life as a friendly neighbourhood hero would exactly be easy considering the threats he dealt with but at least in the suit he had some time off from his relationship problems. Of course, after Wade Wilson literally blasting himself into Peter’s life even the Spider-Man became burdened with the inner struggle of the man inside the attire:  
On one hand, Peter really wants to help Deadpool. Sure, Wade could be crazy and annoying at times. Still, he had really grown to like the Merc with a mouth. But on the other hand, he doesn’t want to disappoint the man he had accepted as his mentor all those years back. It’s just that sometimes when with Deadpool Peter forgot the Iron Man even existed and moments like this one, when he is staring at the man’s sour face, make him feel regretful he hadn’t slept with Tony’s face on his pillowcase to keep his head clear. The pit of his stomach is taken over by a whirlwind of nervousness and guilt.

It’s blatantly obvious Tony feels insulted.

“I’d hate to twist your arm Mr. Stark but,” Peter begins even though he isn’t sure where he’s headed. In his mind he is debating between standing behind Wade and feeding him to the wolves, or to _a_ wolf in this case.

“Then don’t,” Tony states sternly. Brown eyes cold and piercing.

Peter is effortlessly annoyed by the way he is constantly brushed aside like nothing he said held any value.

“With all due respect, I know you’re used to ordering people around, but I don’t work for you,” he says trying to push against shove. Peter knows he is in no way perfect but with so many regrets on his track record, Tony Stark isn’t exactly the first pick when hiring a Jiminy cricket.

“You’re absolutely right about both of those things but I’m not here to tell you what to do. I’m here to help you,” Tony says looking up at the younger man.

“By telling me what not to do,” Parker points out puffing out a frustrated laugh to further illustrate his point about the stupidity of Tony’s statement. “Besides I thought you came here asking for my help, not to give me relationship advice.”

The man gets up from the couch and takes two long and menacing steps towards Peter, who flinches by the sudden movement.

“I don’t have the time or energy to constantly babysit you,” he says simply, and Peter groans under his breath. _Fuck it._ He’d stand behind Wade now and perhaps strangle the man later when he wasn’t too busy proving himself to be capable of making his own decisions.

“Are you drunk?” Peter furrows his brows, as the faint smell of whiskey hitting his nostrils interferes his thoughts.

“I’m sorry, am I accountable to you somehow?” Tony Stark asks with a voice that is neither annoyed or amused. It’s everything in between any real emotion and oh, so very hard to interpret.

“Exactly what a drunk person would say,” he jokes trying to sound even somewhat confident and not at all worried about the fact that Tony is apparently drunk so early in the afternoon. But he is concerned. Very much so.

 “Has it not even once occurred to you that I might be on your side, kid? I mean, if you want to have a delayed teenage rebellion, go do drugs or steal something, but don’t bring your recklessness with you when you put on that suit. You have to think about the consequences of your actions. Because sometimes having good intentions doesn’t cut it. Sometimes trying to do the right thing the wrong way can lead to terrible results that just might make you doubt whether it was the right thing to do in the first place. And frankly I don’t want you to have to doubt the very thing that makes you such a wonderful person just because you’re blinded by your own arrogance,” Tony Stark says with a tone that despite its harshness leaves Peter surprised by the sentimentality. The way the man’s intonation keeps rising towards the end suggests that he isn’t finished but a silence falls upon them still.

Peter’s mind is working furiously on two things. Deflecting the accusation of him being arrogant and instinctively on proving Tony wrong even though he knows in a less agitated state of mind he would understand and apologize. Now that he knows Tony isn’t sober he doesn’t have to wonder why his eyes are glassy and hard to read but he still hates it.

“I’m not you,” he answers after staring at the brown eyes for way too long trying to define what Tony was feeling. The conversation had taken a turn Peter hadn’t expected. Maybe it was the booze talking but it is obvious Tony is reflecting his own anxieties on Peter and it was no wonder since his life had been on a rapid tailspin about to hit the ground. There was only so long Tony could lie to himself and everyone around him about his obvious struggle with alcoholism.

“Again, that’s exactly why I’m here. To keep it that way,” Tony says sharply, and the words cut deep but Peter isn’t the one bleeding. To Peter this whole conversation suddenly seems to have very little to do with Wade Wilson breaking into Tony's house and everything to do with Pepper getting hurt in a terrorist attack taken place in the Stark tower. He knows Tony feels personally responsible for it because he had made it very clear to everyone, even the press, going as far as to state he might as well had been the one detonating the explosives. Peter understands his guilt as at the time of the strike the man had been at home drunk out of his mind. But then again even if he hadn’t he would’ve had no way of knowing about it beforehand.

Something about the honest desperation behind the man’s statement reminds Peter of a child. The same agony and fright he had felt when finding himself stuck under the rubble of a collapsed building. He remembers feeling as helpless as a poor beetle stuck on its back and left to the mercy of the same cruel world that had blown the gust of wind to make it fall.

An event he had, ever since it had occurred, looked at as a turning point to which every moment in his life had led to. The manifestation of the saying one can be courageous only when he’s afraid. It had also been the first time Peter Parker had had to save himself as there had been no one else to reach out to. Now, trying to be there for Tony he has no idea what to say. How could he save a man _from_ himself?  
He couldn’t dive into Tony’s head and pull some magic lever to make him realize how things got twisted ugly by his inner demons. How trying to use alcohol as am escape from the nightmares that had taken over him was only blackening even the sun with their shadows.

With the arrogant and powerful hero façade washed away all there was left was a kid. A child who craved nothing else than approval from his father. A hand on his shoulder squeezing warmly and a smile to tell just how proud he was. And with the passing of Howard Stark this need for approval had quickly grown bigger than one man. Evolved into a need to prove to the whole world that Tony Stark, as much as the Iron Man, deserved to exist. In desperate search for a meaning to justify the gift of life many took for granted.

“This isn’t about me, is it?” the younger says quietly. In fact, so quietly it’s almost as if he wishes Tony couldn’t hear him. But he does. Loud and clear and Peter’s question seems to awaken the man from his thoughts.

“It’s not your fault,” Peter tells him catching Tony off guard and Tony makes a face, “Pepper will be fine - and me? – I’m wearing my big boy pants.”

“Don’t you think, even for a second, that this reverse psychology bullshit is going to work on me,” the man says pointing an accusing finger at Peter’s face as he leans closer with a very serious look on his lined face. Parker recognises a homerun when he sees one.

“I got this Mr. Stark,” he says poking the hole he had created on Tony’s emotional wall.

“I can’t even begin to describe how untrue that is. This game you’re playing with him could have gone south at any given time,” the man says staring straight into Peter’s soul it seems.

“Yeah. But it hasn’t. Besides, you can’t make an omelette without breaking any eggs, right?” Peter says smiling and regrets it instantly after seeing the reception. He raises his hands on either side of his head as an ‘I take that back’. “Look, you don’t have to trust him, but I do.”

Peter can see that Tony bites his teeth together from the way his jaw muscles clench slightly. He had driven the man into a corner and handed him two alternatives; Tony Stark could either admit he doesn’t trust Parker or stay in the corner accepting his plead to be trusted. Tony’s mouth opens but out comes only a sigh and his eyes close as his head falls forward admitting defeat with as much elegance as one could.

“I’ll take care of Wade. I know you have a lot on your plate,” the younger says landing a hand on the shoulder of the expensive jacket, squeezing the muscly shoulder warmly looking to give some reassurance.

“You’ve really grown out of your hero complex, haven’t you?” Tony says looking at the hand on his shoulder with an arched brow that only hinted just how much he hated the gesture Peter hadn’t meant as condescending but had been received that way. A nice gesture lost in translation.

“Not quite. I’m kind of shocked you’re letting me hold on,” Peter admits feeling awfully flustered. Was it odd that thinking about Tony as a vulnerable kid turns him on a little? Yes? Okay, but it still does and now that he notices how hard his heart is stomping he finds it hard to focus on anything else. But he has heard a saying that accepting people’s vulnerabilities had something to do with true love.

_WHAT. No, no, no. Not true love, holy fuck. Not the time to be thinking with your dick. Fuck you, penis, honestly. Stay down! Oh god, this is so weird. What is wrong with you, Peter? Wade has really driven you insane. Think gross thoughts. Smelly armpits,_

“For the record, I don’t condone any more fatherly shoulder patting. Just to avoid these awkward situations in the future,” Stark says.

_vomit,_

“Right, I—uh, yeah. I mean,” Peter stutters all the previous confidence vaporised and ends his not-a-sentence with a scoff. “It wasn’t meant to be fatherly.”

_high school biology teacher, what was her name again, Ms. Finn? Finnigan?_

“Not helpful. This is why I do the talking,” Tony says wrapping his own hand around Peter’s which the boy apparently had deemed impossible to move by himself.

_Pepper Potts. What? Why would she be gross? What the hell, Peter?_

“How is she, by the way?” the younger asks seemingly out of nowhere.

Tony inhales deep before shaking his head lips stuck to a slight frown. “Better.”

Peter nods yet again unsure what to say. “Mr. Stark, I heard what happened between you two – the break up, I mean – and I just-“

“Hold your horses, kid. I’m not discussing my relationships with you. We’re not there yet,” Tony interrupts finally stepping away while straightening his suit jacket. “Actually, let me rephrase that: Let’s never discuss my relationships, ever.”

_Good job. A for effort_

“Right, sure. I just wanted to say that-“

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks. It’s not my fault yadayada. Don’t want to hear it,” Tony says attention shifting to his phone that had begun beeping in his pocket seconds ago and Peter huffs.

“Actually, I was going to say the exact opposite. I mean, she is a goddess. She is kind and caring and you are, well, “Peter doesn’t finish as his words get stuck on his throat by the glare Tony gives him.

“Could you stop insulting me? Just for a second?” Tony gives an order disguised as a question raising his eyebrows in aggravation.

“Someone told me I’m a little too arrogant for my own good,” Peter replies trying his best not to smile.

“And that someone is damn right. This better not come back and bite me in the ass, you hear me? Next time I won’t be so understanding,” the man says pocketing the cell phone. “And zip it,” he continues pointedly when Peter proceeds to open his mouth undoubtedly to say something more or less snarky about whether he considered the word understanding to be fit to describe the man.

“Just get me back my stuff and make sure he doesn’t come to my house ever again. Next time the hand will be the only thing left of him.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, you didn't fall asleep in the middle of reading this? Great!♥  
> Thanks for reading :3


	7. Miscommunication: The quickest path to war

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What the fuck were you doing at Tony Stark’s house?” he asks the instant the little girl gets bored watching the two men stare at each other.  
> “I haven’t been to his house,” Wade denies shaking his head throwing his best attempt on the doe-eyes.  
> “So, you’re saying your hand just fucked off and went to have a cup of coffee with Tony?” Peter asks crossing his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI! So this chapter contains sexual(I don't know how explicit I would describe it, but any way) content. Just a word of warning.  
> Sorry about all the possible brainfarts included in the text. Yikes.
> 
> ANYWAY! Thank you again for reading ~♥

_Gotham City, The Burrows_

His whole head feels like it would’ve been on fire. He can feel his cheek swelling and a bruise forming on the corner of his eye to where Wade had punched him. Among other places. He had fought Deadpool twice and gotten his ass handed back both times. The way the man could just suddenly have murder written all over his normally silly looking face was scary to say the least. He would’ve described the sudden change in Wade’s composition to a flick of a switch: Murder mode on or off.

Although he couldn’t blame Wade for getting a little upset over hearing his friend might be dead. A little upset being the underestimation of the year as he had practically thrown Jason around in his rage.

“Hit me one more fucking time and I’ll lose it,” Jason grumbles through gritted teeth and Deadpool slaps the back of his head as a response.

“I like your pet, Red,” Harley Quinn chirps and Jason’s head falls back accompanied by a cry of frustration.

“Oh god. Just kill me now.”

“That’s very rude, birdbrain,” Harleen frowns folding her arms on her chest.

“You got the goods?” Deadpool asks shoving his hand inside the pants of his red suit to adjust the Spider-Man patterned boxer shorts ever so casually.

“I got these goods,” the woman smiles a toothy grin pointing at her breasts. “But with the other good stuff I ran into some trouble. You came a little sooner than I expected. And when I say I expected you a bit later I mean that I wasn’t going to do it because I was sure you wouldn’t ever come back. So, this is a bit awkward.”

“I’m a man of my word,” Wade says stretching his sides.

“I thought you only meant that in bed,” the woman admits.

“Don’t tell me you two have,” Jason asks for reasons unbeknownst gesturing towards the pair. He swears to god he can feel some vomit climbing up his throat.

“Hey, my heart is reserved but my dick is community property,” Deadpool answers making Harley giggle heartily.

“So, are you going to punish me, Red? I’ve been a bad girl,” Quinn asks stressing the word bad in an awful voice before running to Wade and jumping on his lap.

“I volunteer as your target practice if I don’t have to hear or see any more of this,” Todd groans not caring that it would most likely work as a fuel to Harleen, who frankly liked nothing else as much as annoying the living shit out of him.

“You should’ve taken the blue bird. He’s a lot more charming than this one,” Harley says pointedly turning to look at him from Wade’s arms.

“Me and him don’t get along that well,” Deadpool replies letting the woman fall back on her own feet.

“Oh, because we do?” Jason asks incredulously.

“You don’t play nice with anyone, stinkbrain,” Harley says walking up to him and jabbing a finger on his forehead.

“So, about the weapons?” Deadpool asks not minding Jason’s grumpiness.

“Lucky you, there is actually a truckload of the best shit coming to town very soon,” Harley says spitting out the pink bubble-gum he had been chewing and grins widely, “but the information is gonna cost ya.”

Jason can practically hear something in his head snap. He shakes off the loose rope that had been just barely binding his hands together. He pulls out a gun from behind his back making Harley jump out of the way as Todd proceeds to pop both Wade’s kneecaps off with two quick shots.

 “Motherfucker!” Wilson roars collapsing to the floor.

“Wait, what? Why does he have a gun? I thought he was a hostage?” Harley asks with a particularly high-pitched voice seemingly unphased by the fact that Wade had just lost both of his kneecaps. It makes Jason’s imagination get the best of him as for a brief moment he explores the possibility of Harleen having to find out about Wade’s healing factor in a completely different kind of situation.

“Unless you want to join Wade, I suggest you start talking business,” he says shifting his focus on the woman who sighs deeply.

“Not the kind of blowing I was hoping for,” she says, and Wade laughs at this from his uglycrying on the floor, “but fine. What’d ya wanna know birdie?”

_a week before the fateful day, Wade’s flat, New York_

“Where’s the fire?” Wade asks as he opens the door. He stumbles backwards in surprise as Peter shoves him in stepping in behind him slamming the door shut. Wade furrows his brows swaying slightly before regaining his balance and Peter can see the man had been woken up by his knocking. He is wearing his flannel pyjama pants and a pink unicorn shirt.

“Bend me over and fuck me, Wade,” Peter orders not moving, and Wade just stares at him for a moment.

“Are you kidding?” he asks.

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Peter retorts with a serious face and Wade chuckles.

“Is that a trick question?”

Peter lifts his chin challengingly not answering anything beyond the gesture and Wade blinks at him a couple of times before closing the distance to kiss Peter, who grabs two fistfuls of Deadpool’s ridiculous unicorn shirt.  Wade’s back gets slammed against the wall with enough force to make him huff out most of the air from his lungs and to make the only painting on the wall fall down and break.

Wade’s lips are hot against Peter’s and Peter can taste garlic on his tongue as it brushes against Wade’s. His heart is beating like crazy and his erection is straining uncomfortably against the zipper of his skinny-jeans.

“You’re a little scary right now,” Wade mumbles into the kiss when Peter shoves his hand inside his pyjama pants and grabbing his half hard cock almost too harshly for it to feel good. The younger groans from impatience breaking the heated kiss. He needs Wade rock hard, like, yesterday.

Peter rolls his eyes as a response before falling onto his knees. He pulls down the flannel pants before grabbing the half hard cock again and sucking it into his mouth. Wade’s hands fall on Peter’s hair when the younger’s cheeks go hollow. The mercenary looks down at him examining the dark eyes and flushed cheeks. The younger absolutely loves how he can both feel and hear the blood flowing down on Wade’s body. A couple of bigger blood vessels pulsating on his tongue pleasantly.

“What the hell has got you that riled up, Pete?” the man asks watching Peter’s mouth working on him. Peter lowers the hand that isn’t holding the root of Wade’s full-blown erection to his own pants squeezing himself through the fabric of his jeans experimentally. He can feel a wet spot on the textile. He doesn’t know whether it’s sweat or precum and frankly, he doesn’t even care. His dick twitches at the touch and his stomach churns. He closes his eyes seeing Tony’s brown eyes looking at him intensely. The lips framed by the goatee in a frown that digs two small holes on his cheeks.

He releases Wade’s dick with an obscene bop and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Deadpool crouches down to lift Peter up by his armpits and pulls the sweaty T-shirt off.

“Off, off, off,” he urges Peter pointing at his jeans and Peter almost falls down as he tries to take them off. They both take some time to wish the inventor of skinny jeans would have a nice time burning in hell for eternity. His briefs are quick to join the jeans on the floor and Wade’s hand starts reaching towards Parker’s manhood but doesn’t reach its destination before getting trapped by Peter’s fist.

“If you touch it, I’ll come. I’m not even kidding. So, hands off,” Peter says sternly forgetting to feel embarrassed and Wade frowns.

“But it’s so pretty,” he argues, and Peter shuts him up with another kiss pressing their bodies together. Wade circles his hands to the back of Peter’s thighs lifting him up with ease. Peter wraps his hands around the man growling from the bottom of his throat when Wade squeezes his thighs harder and he can feel Wade’s dick on his skin. He takes Deadpool’s lower lip between his teeth and pulls it slightly.

Wade begins the dangerous journey through the surprisingly long hallway that is basically an obstacle course and the man trips on everything he possibly could along the way. Not excluding his own feet that had still the pyjama pants pooled around them. The ride is pretty bumpy and Peter hisses into the kiss ass his erection rubs against Wade’s shirt covered abs for a brief moment. He opens his eyes to find Wade staring. Gaze hopping from Peter’s eyes to somewhere behind him.

“Oh my god. Close your eyes. It’s so weird if they’re open,” he groans in frustration breaking the lip contact for a moment and Wade looks at him in disbelief. He doesn’t even know why it matters but apparently kissing shouldn’t involve peeking.

“That’s the only weird thing about this situation?” he asks smiling a lopsided smile that is quick to fade. “How the fuck am I supposed to know where to walk if my eyes are closed?”

Guess real life wasn’t like the movies. At least in the rom coms, he had watched (more or less voluntarily, sure to keep his eyes to himself when one of the inevitable sex-scenes absolutely no one wants to watch with their parents happened) with Aunt May, people had no trouble managing kissing and walking at the same time.

“Whatever, I’ll walk,” gives up from his idea of what passionate sex should be like and goes to straighten his legs but Wade’s hold on him doesn’t budge. In fact, it only tightens, and his fingers stretch creeping nearer his entrance.

“No, I can totally carry you, baby,” he says and, Peter bites his teeth together inhaling deeply. Baby? Even through his horny haze the word makes warning bells begin ringing in his head and it makes the hair on his skin stand up. _Abort mission._ Since when had Wade called him baby? Never that’s when. And on top of that the word is coated with an affection Peter has never heard from the man outside of talking about his daughter. Sure, Wade had called him a lot of things during the relatively brief time they’ve known each other but they had been all jokes or handed to him too matter-of-factly to have any feelings tied to them.

Could Wade be – _no. He couldn’t. Right...?_ But now that he thinks about it he can’t stop. It makes so much sense to him now: Why Wade Wilson hates Tony Stark from the bottom of his heart. Why he comes up with one ridiculous excuse after another and quite literally goes out of his way just to spend time with him. Why he touches him any chance he gets. Peter is so in thought he forgets everything around him venturing deep inside his own mind. He doesn’t notice Wade walking straight past his bedroom to the kitchen. Peter yelps as he can feel his butt landing on something cold and slimy and a faint smell of pepperoni hits his nostrils. The panic slips his mind as he scrunches his nose in disgust.

“Please tell me I’m not sitting on your pizza?” he says not wanting to look down and clenches his butt cheeks in discomfort. Wade squints his eyes very unattractively glancing to the table he had just sat Peter onto.

“Would that make you less keen on doing this?” he asks quietly.

“Possibly,” Peter replies in all honesty hating the cold and slimy feeling.

“Well, you are my favourite topping, Webs,” the man smirks and Peter punches his shoulder.

“Not funny.”

“It was a little funny,” Wade grins picking up Peter’s ankles and places them on his shoulders, which results the younger’s upper body collapsing on the table’s surface as his whole body had tensed on a sitting position because of the gross pizza under him. Then out of the blue Wade’s finger pokes his belly button.

“What are you doing?” he asks propping himself up slightly with his elbows to look at the man better.

“Calling an elevator because I’m about to go down on you,” the man states sounding as if Peter had asked a fish what it was doing underwater.

“You’re an idiot,” he says unable to keep in the smile as he starts to push the man down by the shoulders with his feet while Wade imitates an electrical humming of an elevator while simultaneously trying to hum some laid-back casual music and taking his damn time sinking to his knees. Eventually Wilson grabs his ass cheeks spreading them apart before giving him a bold lick. Peter slumps back down hitting the back of his head almost painfully on the wooden table. He has to grip the base of his dick to prevent himself for coming.  
Wade’s tongue feels burning hot against him and he closes his eyes biting his lip trying to control his breathing that had gone ragged. He closes his eyes just focusing on the sensation.

One of the man’s thumb is kneading Peter’s rim harshly pulling the resisting ring of muscle open slightly as his tongue tries its luck entering. Peter is so distracted by Wade’s tongue he doesn’t even notice the man’s other hand crawling up his leg and grabbing his dick. Peter twitches letting out a sigh mixed with a scoff.

“Seriously, Wade. I don’t want to come yet,” he says but Wade’s fist starts jerking him clumsily any way and Peter is so close, and he can feel a swirling sensation inside his stomach that doesn’t – and _holy fucking shitballs, no way._

Peter Parker doesn’t want to, but he locks eyes with the little girl he recalls seeing once before. In fact he would’ve rather done anything but that. He lifts his legs from Wade’s shoulders kicking the man off quite violently before jumping down from the table surface hiding his junk with his hands just in time to witness a woman walk through the doorway. His heart sinks all the way to his left heel it seems as his whole body is positively radiating with shame. Having sex with Wade in itself was something he would’ve never admitted to anyone. So being caught in the act by the man’s family was devastating to say the least. Her eyes land on Wade lying on the floor wearing nothing but his unicorn shirt before jumping to look at Peter who is stood on his place frozen like a statue, hands covering his now limp dick.

“Hi sweetheart,” Wade smiles to the girl who waves back at him.

The woman blinks a few times before kneeling on the floor to get to the girl’s level and turning kid to face her. More importantly: Drawing her attention away from the situation going on in the kitchen.

“Go to your daddy’s room to find your book. Mommy needs to have a little talk with your dad,” she says smiling.

“Are you going to discuss my therapy again? Do I really have to go?” the girl asks pouting.

“Daddy is going to pray on his hands and knees to every known god you won’t. Now, skedaddle,” the woman says, and Peter can almost taste the venom in her words and he couldn’t blame her. He doubted she would just drop by unannounced. Wade had definitely known they were coming.

“Hi, Gretchen. Lovely as ever,” Wilson says smiling and the woman called Gretchen reacts to this the same way Peter imagines some people would to getting punched in the mouth.

“You are juggling with chainsaws and even if you can grow new limbs our daughter can’t grow a new childhood,” Gretchen says walking to Wade, who was still lying on the floor, and crouching down to pick the man up by the chest of his shirt.

“I’m so sorry, I had no idea you were coming,” Peter slips before he can help himself. He just can’t stand the idea of the image of him and Wade in very questionable positions being burned to the poor kid’s retinas. He remembers once walking in on May and Ben and it was still something he had to sometimes actively work to not think about.

“Oh right. How rude of me,” Wade chuckles straightening his shirt and in any other situation Peter would’ve laughed at the look. A pretty girl in nothing but a loose shirt was cute and attractive but a big muscly heavily scarred man in a pink T-shirt didn’t exactly scream sexy.

“Gretchen, this is Peter. Peter, Gretchen,” Deadpool says gesturing between them and Parker is sure the woman’s gaze is ice as it makes his skin cold when it scans him trying to decide how awful of a person he was.

“Today is a historical day for you, Peter, as you got to meet the only person dumb enough to take this one,” she hits Wade on the back of the head and it isn’t a slap with an open hand but a hard punch, “to the church.”

Peter offers his hand before thinking about where it had been. Gretchen grabs it and then squints her eyes upon feeling the hand isn’t exactly clean. Time freezes as Peter looks the beautiful woman deep in the eyes while squeezing his own come against her petite hand. All alarms in his head start screaming so loudly he can’t hear the voice that recommends letting go, like ASAP.

“I did not think that through,” Peter manages to utter but to his surprise the woman chuckles slightly. Her cheeks splitting with dimples. He is still unable to let go and it made the situation so much worse as the woman is obviously done with the polite gesture.

“I’m going to go wash my hands and we’ll pretend that never happened,” she says firmly giving Peter’s hand one last squeeze before jiggling her hand out of the tight hold.

“Thank you,” Peter smiles weakly. In his head he swears to himself it would be the last time he would even try to engage in any kind of sexual interaction with Wade. Sadly, it wasn’t the first time he had promised himself that. Still, time and time again he reassured himself that things couldn’t possibly get any worse. They always did.

He forces his feet to move and it seriously feels like they had grown roots. He doesn’t even look at Wade as he marches back to the hall to collect his clothes. _Nice to meet you, ex-wife of this man I’m fucking here in front of your daughter, here, take a sample of my jizz, I don’t even know what to say anymore,_ Peter mutters to himself awfully tempted just to hit his head against a wall in hopes of slipping into a coma or getting amnesia.

“You have a little something on your butt there, Mr,” Wade’s daughter says suddenly, and Peter literally jumps as the girl’s little fingers go to nip away a piece of pepperoni glued on his butt cheek. He pulls on his briefs in record time before facing the girl, who is looking up at him with a suspicious look. Ah, that’s right. Peter had seen her, but she had seen only the Spider-Man. He doesn’t know whether it makes it worse or better.

“Look, I’m really sorry you had to see that,” he tells her smiling weakly.

“I suppose it’s a bit gross, but my mom’s cats do that to each other all the time. I suppose it’s nice that my dad takes care of you that way,” the girl says making Peter’s eyes widen to the size of saucers at the words. He wants to cry as it is simultaneously the most endearing and most inappropriate things he has heard in a while. Instead he just presses his lips together to form a thin line and nods slowly. Should he tell her that licking other people’s butts wasn’t something to engage in at her age. Or necessarily in any age. How could he tell that to a kid? He could already see her trying to something of sort – _fuck_ , why did he have to think about that? And takes care of you _that way_ – what was that supposed to mean?

“What is s, dot, h, dot, I, dot, e, dot, I, dot, t, dot?” the girl asks suddenly luckily drawing Peter out of his inner turmoil.

“Shield? It’s an agency. How so?” he explains albeit he isn’t quite sure telling that shield is an agency is self-explanatory to someone that age.

“I found these between the pages of my book,” the girl says offering Peter a stack of papers that from first glance do look alarmingly lot like S.H.I.E.L.D.’s files.

“I’ll just take those, thank you,” Wade says trying to grab the stack from Peter, but Peter draws it away from him.

“Are these real, Wade?” he asks holding the man off with one hand while glancing at the papers.

“Are what real?” Gretchen asks appearing to the narrow already crowded hallway.

“Peter here just happened to find this children’s book I’ve been working on,” Wilson says brown eyes looking at Peter as if to tell him ‘act cool, okay’.

“Have you now?” Gretchen asks one of her eyebrows quirking up.

“What’s it about?” the girl asks instantly.

“It’s about children who walk in on their dads having some _good times_ with their friends and not getting traumatized because kids these days see all kinds of shit online,” Deadpool replies looking at his ex-wife instead of the person whose question he’s replying to. ”Based on a true story. Inspiring, really.”

“I thought you said it was a book _for_ children,” Gretchen reminds him.

“It is. The main character is Princess Elsa from Arendell who one night goes to check on her parents as he can hear mommy screaming in the other room. He opens the door and finds his papa and the young trusty errand boy- “Wade babbles on but pauses upon seeing Peter’s face twist funnily. “It’s a really graphic children’s book,” he ends his recap, voice growing a little high pitched as he again tries his luck to grab the papers from Peter.

“A graphic children’s book about kids walking in on their parents getting it on? Sounds more like nightmare fuel than a bedtime story,” Peter states out loud making Gretchen point at him. “What he said.”

“Yeah, well I never said it was a good book. Jesus do you people get off on taking a huge steaming dump on others’ creativity?” Wilson frowns and Peter has to admire Wade’s ability to distract people as he had himself almost forgotten he was currently holding possibly very confidential S.H.I.E.L.D. documents concerning god knows what.

“In any case I’m leaving,” Gretchen says squatting down to give the girl a firm hug. “Now, if something should happen, you know the number of—”

“Police and fire department, yes, mommy!” the child interrupts making Peter believe she had been told this alarmingly lot.

“And, mommy’s new boyfriend, who is a cop,” she says eyes landing on Wade as she names the profession.

“You’re dating a cop? Is it that Jerry?” Wade asks squinting his eyes disapprovingly.

“Kyle,” she corrects getting up and pats the girl’s head.

When she leaves Deadpool goes on the longest rant Peter had anyone ever have about a person they obviously knew practically nothing about. He almost forgets about the files in his hand. And the fact that he hadn’t dropped by to have sex, or at least that’s what he keeps telling himself.

“What the fuck were you doing at Tony Stark’s house?” he asks the instant the little girl gets bored watching the two men stare at each other.

“I haven’t been to his house,” Wade denies shaking his head throwing his best attempt on the doe-eyes.

“So, you’re saying your hand just fucked off and went to have a cup of coffee with Tony?” Peter asks crossing his arms.

“Where is the hand?” Wade asks and Peter groans.

“I threw it away. It was gross. Wy do you even care since you’ve already grown another one?”

“It’s not the same. It’s just like when my dad parked his car on top of my dog, Hamlet, and got me a new one thinking I wouldn’t notice. But it wasn’t the same. Hamlet knew all the tricks and the new dog just sat there stupidly. We had such fun times with Hamlet – just like with that hand. We’ve been through so much together. I remember, Pete, when I was just your age,” he speaks even though he doesn’t know Peter’s exact age, “me and my hand used to be very close. We would spend so much time together, enjoying each other’s company: Taking long walks on the beach, spending long nights huddled up in my bed, just the two of us, watching movies and the kinkiest porn magazines my father’s collection had to offer. My hand always knew just what to do. Oh, good times.”

“For a moment there I actually felt kind of sorry for you,” Parker says rolling his eyes. Usually the more speeches Deadpool held the less keen he was discussing about the topic at hand. Uttering total bull was one of the man’s many gifts.

“No need. Hamlet was a mean little son of a bitch. I’m sure that to this date he is still burning in hell. Burn well, buddy,” Wade chuckles yet again attempting to tackle Peter to get his hands on the documents, but Peter dodges the sloppy attempt with ease and Wade tumbles down to the floor yelping.

“Tony needs it back,” Peter says after a long while of wondering what kind of a person would want their pet to burn in hell.

“It? He didn’t even tell you what I took? I thought he trusted you, Webs,” Wade says rubbing his head that he had banged on the floor.

“He _does_ trust me,” Peter Parker retorts the words tasting just a little too sour even for his own liking.

_New York, S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ_

“I’m sorry, Nick. He just marched in,” Maria Hill says entering the room followed by very unpleased Tony Stark.

“It’s all right, agent,” Fury replies turning on his chair to face the man he had definitely expected to show up sooner or later.

Maria looks at him for a moment before closing the door after a nod.

“You know, your distrust in me just never seizes to amaze me,” Tony states pausing at the centre of the round room opening his arms to his sides to signal he was ready to receive information.

“And I wonder why that could be, Mr Stark,” Nick fires back raising his eyebrows. “Right now, we have nothing that concerns you.”

Tony gives a short laughter to hint of his aggravation. “Spider-Man is on my list of priorities even if he doesn’t fall into yours. So, let’s just agree to disagree. I’m beginning to run a little short on Avengers.”

Nick Fury stands up from his chair practically stomping his heels on the floor while doing so. Even Tony is surprised by how on edge the man really is and how his already short temper had apparently died all together.  
“In case you haven’t noticed, SHIELD took quite the hit too after the motherfucking destroyer bot you created between your three and four o’clock bitching hours. You signed the accord, so did we. And as much as I hate that half of your gang are wanted criminals there is nothing I can do about it! And you going full psycho on their asses certainly didn’t help. We are in the same boat so you better stop shooting holes in it or we all sink.”

“Right. What is really quite astonishing, is the fact that when all is peaceful you strut around flexing with your power but as soon as things go south you’re awfully willing to let me save your asses and take the blame. Need I remind you about New York?” Tony takes a cool approach instead of snarling the words through gritted teeth like he really wanted to. He takes two menacing steps closer to Nick who as a result straightens his posture.  
“I pay for my mistakes and I learn from them. Whereas you hide behind the protection of the government shrugging your shoulders. ‘Gee, I don’t know how that happened. I had no idea messing around with the super powerful energy source from outer space could be dangerous, go figure’,” he continues lifting his finger on his lips while doing a very poor impersonation of Nick Fury.

“Well you don’t exactly play a humble hero. You love taking the praise and worshipping of the people. At one point, I was actually considering we might’ve been wrong about you. You turned your boat and started taking other things almost as seriously as you had previously taken money, but nothing is ever enough to you, is it? Once you get praise, you need more and more and frankly earth provides to satisfy every man’s needs, but not every man’s greed,” Fury says daring a chuckle here and there even though, or maybe just because, it annoys Tony.

“Did you just seriously quote Gandhi at me?” Tony asks but Nick pretends not to notice.

“Your quest for approval is downright giving you suicidal tendencies and clouding your mind. And in the light of your recent actions, I don’t exactly understand how you feel like you’re in any position to march yo ass into my office and criticize me or, more importantly, SHIELD. Don’t think we haven’t noticed your liquid diet of scotch and bourbon. Take some time off, go on a holiday - do whatever the hell you need to do, I don’t give a damn - but you better start getting your shit together and do it real quick because your behaviour has started to raise a lot of eyebrows.”

“Okay. This got more than a little side tracked. This isn’t about me. I didn’t come here to discuss myself,” Tony says not even wanting to unpack everything Nick had just said. He gives SHIELD one last chance before taking the matters into his own hands. He had waited patiently long enough.

“Oh, really? Doesn’t everything revolve around you?” Nick Fury replies looking at Tony’s eyes intensely. Another chance wasted. Tony nods his head almost unnoticeably scratching behind his ear and making a face. It’s a geture Nick doesn’t quite understand but Tony doesn’t blame him since it wasn’t meant to communicate anything to him specifically but rather to another presence in the room only Tony is wary of.

“Okay first of all, I don’t think that and secondly --you _did_ quote Gandhi at me, didn’t you? That is so pretentious,” Stark states glancing at his watch suddenly seeming a little too pleased for Nick’s liking. Fury spots him looking past him again towards his computer and turns around just in time to miss Vision disappearing through the wall.

“Look, whatever you think is going on, I can assure you –"

“You’ve really upgraded your security as I couldn’t access it from the outside, like at all. Good for you,” Stark says smiling very disingenuously. “I know you know where Parker is as someone was kind enough to inform his aunt about his _trip abroad._ I get that you really want to keep something a secret from me but as long as Parker is involved I’ll make it my business too. Just a friendly warning.”

“I have seriously no idea what you’re talking about,” Fury says as Tony turns away before Nick would get too suspicious.

“Sure, you do. And soon so will I.”

“Oh, you motherfucker. No you didn’t,” Fury draws in a quick breath running to his computer.

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” he says not being able to resist gloating just a bit after all. A little gloating never killed nobody.


	8. Making sacrifices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m not asking this because I care about you or your friend but because we had a deal, Deadpool. The deal was that if I get Tim to help me, we get Parker quietly and then you two fuck off somewhere. But if my hunch is correct, we have a problem. Because that means you’re going to fuck me over,” Jason says turning to look at Deadpool again, “so, my question is how will I know that’s not the case?”
> 
> “You won’t,” Deadpool replies short and sweet.
> 
> “So, in other words trusting you is a suicide,” Todd laughs letting his head fall forward in defeat. How had he let himself get into this situation? He was supposed to be smarter than that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhhhhhh... This got even more dark. Yikes? I'm going through something in my personal life that makes it pretty freaking difficult to write fun things but it is what it is.
> 
> And I'm so sorry for making Dick Grayson a dumb shit (and for torturing my precious webslinger :<)
> 
> Thanks for reading!♥
> 
> And I wanted to add a trigger WARNING: this chapter has basically torture

_Gotham City, Near Gotham City bay_

“Be real with me,” Jason says watching Wade snort cocaine straight from the small bag he is holding, “you already thought he was dead, didn’t you? Because the hero crap you were on about the first times I met you - not killing me and stuff and then suddenly you’re shooting people left right and center.”

“Are you trying to humanize me? That means you like me,” Wade says pointing a white finger at Jason.

“I’m helping you to get rid of you. In fact, I don’t just _not like_ you, I fucking despise you. I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on in your head,” Todd says closing his eyes to relish the few drops of rain on his skin. “And I’ve done some thinking. Stop me if I’m way off but the way I see it, you’re not actually hoping to find him but avenge him, aren’t you?”

“Are you a psychic or are we just so alike you can practically read my mind?” Wade gasps in fake shock that just further proves Jason’s suspicions.

“I’m not asking this because I care about you or your friend but because we had a deal, Deadpool. The deal was that if I get Tim to help me, we get Parker quietly and then you two fuck off somewhere. But if my hunch is correct, we have a problem. Because that means you’re going to fuck me over,” Jason says turning to look at Deadpool again, “so, my question is how will I know that’s not the case?”

“You won’t,” Deadpool replies short and sweet.

“So, in other words trusting you is a suicide,” Todd laughs letting his head fall forward in defeat. How had he let himself get into this situation? He was supposed to be smarter than that.

“Yeah, well Spidey trusted me and look where it got him,” Wade says looking at his hands. Moving and twirling his fingers in the air. “This shit is pretty fucking dope.”

Jason doesn’t like the idea of the only control he had thought to have over the man being a lost cause. He can hear a heavy engine vehicle approaching and he picks up the binoculars. It’s hard to see without night vision as the dark clouds had covered the stars and the moon.

“Here it comes,” Jason reports after spotting the truck.

Deadpool throws a duffel bag to, or rather at, him grabbing one himself as he gets up. “Let’s get our Spidey freeing gear then.”

“Wait, why are there two duffel bags? How much weapons do you think we need?” Jason asks furrowing his brows.

“Can’t hear you over my excitement,” Deadpool replies stepping to the roof’s edge.

“Hang on,” Jason groans but Wade salutes him jumping down. “Deadpool!”

He hears the bang of the heavy truck’s tires as they drive past the road spikes they had placed, and it’s followed by the screeching of brakes.

“You better fucking be alive, Spider Man,” he sighs pulling his mask on before following his partner in crime.

“Oh my god. This shit is really the greatest. You sure you don’t want any?” Wade asks as soon as Jason lands next to him. “I can barely feel that the fall broke my ankles.”

“You should’ve used the rope,” Jason states looking at the man lying on his face on the cold asphalt.

“Nobody likes a smartass,” Deadpool huffs.

“You’re the biggest smartass I know,” Jason says watching the driver hop off from the vehicle to check the damage and phone someone.

“My previous statement still holds.”

_Meanwhile in the Batcave_

Dick Grayson watches the batmobile drive out of the cave. The low rumble of the engine leaving behind a loud echo. He can hear Damian sitting down on the computer chair and can feel his eyes on his back. Damian is waiting for him to speak up because they both knew he was going to at some point and the boy wasn’t one in circling around topics.

“You would tell us if you knew something we didn’t, wouldn’t you?” Grayson opens the conversation turning to face the boy just to see him wipe away the shittiest grin that told stories about exactly how much on top he knew he was.

“Concerning Todd? Or in general?” Damian asks quirking up one eyebrow.

“Both but right now I’m talking about Jason,” Dick replies telling himself to breathe and count to ten if there should come a moment when he would want to punch the kid and knowing Damian that moment was sooner rather than later.

“What makes you think I know something you don’t? Aren’t you the mister know-it-all in our group? At least you always act like one. Thinking you know best and all that,” the younger says apparently now circling around when it best suits to feed his own amusement.

_1, 2, 3, 4, 5…_

“Okay, so maybe I’ll act the part and tell you I know you know something we don’t. Spit it out,” Dick shrugs pushing his hands into his jeans’ pockets. He is overdoing his whole play of trying to act cool and totally not bothered.

“Who is _we,_ Grayson? From where I’m looking you’re the only one blind enough not to see it,” Damian huffs crossing his fingers on his lap.

Grayson hates to admit it but perhaps he had let his feelings get the better of him as the same discussion had begun to follow him everywhere.

“Enlighten me then. I know you want to,” he says walking to Damian and sits down on the desk.

Damian gives him a look, _the look,_ he has given Dick on many occasions. The one that always asks him beforehand if the conversation was going to be worth having. Damian is stubborn and he himself is so very aware of that. And his eyes always ask Dick if he was going to bend because Damian wasn’t.

“Do you remember when Deadpool first got here? Killed Falcone’s brother and saved Selina Kyle,” Damian starts anyway despite getting no definitive answer from Dick.

“Sure. I don’t think Falcone is going to let anyone forget that,” Dick replies.

“The thing is, I was puzzled for quite some time as to how Deadpool found himself there. And why would he call the cops if he was going to slaughter all those people,” the young Wayne says and Dick regrets not telling him to go directly to the part involving Jason.

“Well, he doesn’t seem to be right in the head, does he? And according to Selina it was fool’s luck he showed up,” Grayson states.

“But think about it Grayson. I’m really giving you the opportunity to not look stupid and connect the pieces. Since Deadpool insisted he was guilty, no one from the police questioned the fact that the rounds found in Falcone’s men, with the exception of one, were shot from a gun that wasn’t at the scene of the crime,” Damian tells Grayson sounding almost bored. “Ask yourself why Wade Wilson would hide the gun if he confessed to the killings? Why would he call the cops on himself?”

Dick furrows his brows. Right, he had forgotten all about that with so many other things going on.

“He wouldn’t, and he didn’t. Because there was someone else there with him. Someone Selina didn’t see because the lights went out,” Dick states more to himself than Damian since the boy seemed to have already concluded that much and likely a lot more.

“And in the phone call Wade Wilson made to the police station, he reported about _a person_ doing a hit and run and in the follow up call he said he’d take care of this person himself and bring him in. But when Bruce asked Selina why _the man in red_ had been there, she said that _the man in red_ had claimed the Falcone’s group had done the hit and run,” the young Wayne says looking at Dick expectantly.

“You’re trying to say that Jason killed those men, aren’t you?” Grayson asks deflating slightly. It doesn’t take much more clues for him to figure out that much. “Damian, you have no way of knowing it was Jason.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. While I can’t _prove_ it was him I have other evidence that makes me think Todd wouldn’t like Falcone questioning Selina Kyle,” Damian says straightening his posture on the chair smiling a slightly gleeful smile that makes Dick force himself to take a deep breath.

_…6, 7, 8, …_

“Is that what you’ve been doing lately?” Grayson asks and Damian’s eyes escape his gaze for a second to gather the feistiness that returns with his blue stare. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you slipping out of bed when Bruce has been out.”

“It’s nobody’s business what I do in my free time,” Damian retorts frowning, and Dick wants to hug himself with joy as he realizes he has some control over the boy. It is blatantly obvious Damian didn’t want Bruce finding out he had went against his father’s orders and would most likely be willing to do a lot to avoid confrontation.

“Okay, what is this evidence that makes you sure it’s Jason. I’m listening,” Grayson tells a little reluctantly. He doesn’t like giving himself more reasons not to trust Jason Todd.

“Selina knows Red Hood’s identity. They stroke a deal. I don’t know what Jason got out of it but I know that as a return and a sign of trust he revealed his identity, which basically means that that fucking idiot screwed us all over. After all, you do remember that Tim deduced _your_ identity and after that it wasn’t exactly hard to figure out who the Batman is.”

Dick almost chokes on the breath he hitches in and his eyes go the size of saucers.

“Please tell me you’re joking. Does Bruce know?” Grayson asks urgently.

“I haven’t discussed about this with him but who knows. I mean he doesn’t exactly seem to trust Todd in any case,” Damian hums obviously pleased with Grayson’s reaction to his words. “And after figuring out that it was most likely Todd who killed Carmine Falcone’s brother I think it isn’t a far stretch to assume Deadpool hasn’t been working alone. Why he would take the fall for Todd is beyond me but that’s where his crazy steps in in my head.”

This was a lot to take in.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit funny that Wade was facing you when Todd marched in to save the day? He was behind you, Dick. That means Wade Wilson not only saw him walking in and point a gun at him, but Wade also just let Todd shoot him. You were so relieved to find Todd in one piece that you completely ignored this, but Tim didn’t,” Damian says a new sting in his tone meant to jab Dick in the guts.

The bottom of Dick’s stomach falls.

_…9, 10. Not calm and collective. At all._

“But Jason hates Deadpool. He wasn’t lying when he told me he despises him. You can’t fake that kind of emotion. At least I know him that well,” the older says quietly on the verge of letting his thoughts consume himself completely.

“I didn’t say he wanted Deadpool here. In fact, I think he wanted anything but that and that’s why he was trying to help him find Peter Parker even long before we first met Wade. Honestly, I think Todd let him go to get rid of him, because Wade knows his secrets. I bet he didn’t expect Wade would kick his ass and drag him along just like he didn’t expect him to hurt Tim that badly. Such a Todd thing to do, don’t you think? He doesn’t think about the bigger picture,” Damian Wayne chuckles slightly before slamming his fist on the desk. “Luckily, I do. And I know for a fucking fact that when Tim transferred those files, Wade deleted the ones containing Peter’s whereabouts because by finding Peter Parker, we would find him too. Deadpool must’ve finally realized Bruce isn’t stupid enough to help him. Probably what Jason has been telling him all along and the soul reason Wade didn’t let himself get caught by us sooner,” Damian speaks with a chilling calmness in his voice. Damian is smart, way smarter than he lets on and this honestly isn’t the first time Grayson is left speechless by the younger’s ability to take bits and pieces and make them into a believable narrative. At times like these, he could really see how much Damian was like his father. They both had cold heads that were out of reach by many mundane emotions.

“Assuming you’re right, if Tim still has copies of the files on his laptop, we could find Peter’s location, right?” Dick asks not wanting to jump on the “ _fuck you Jason”-_ boat any more than necessary. Even if everything Damian had said was true, they still had no idea what kind of reasons Jason’s actions were inspired by _._ The whole ongoing situation had reminded them all how fucked up things could get at times.

“If you still think Todd deserves even a tiny crumb of your trust, you deserve everything bad coming your way,” Damian says. “Tim could’ve died because of him. Let that sink in.”

_Later that night, Batcave_

“I found him,” Bruce says from the computer pulling Damian, Dick, Tim and Barbara from their bickering.

“Jason?” Dick asks.

“Peter Parker,” the Bat replies clicking open video-files. “At least where he was held a week ago.”

An awful silence falls upon them when Bruce clicks play on the newest video. Barbara finds it hard to recognize him as he is so scrawny and pale. The video shows white gowned men injecting him with something. Barbara winces almost inaudibly as Peter Parker starts wrenching on the floor in pain. His mouth opening to a yell. Tears running down on his pale cheeks as a heavy flow of blood from his nose stains his face. The red of it looking almost beautiful against the pale surface of his skin. His eyes are squeezed shut tightly as his hands try looking for anything but find nothing to hold on to. The men don’t even stay in the room to watch as they did in the other videos with the other subjects. Instead they leave him alone in the white unfurnished room. Barbara closes her eyes after reading the words “please kill me” from Peter’s lips and she hugs herself drawing in a shaky breath.

“Enough,” she hears Dick say and Bruce pauses the video.

“There is like at least twenty more of those,” Tim says shuddering.

“Babs?” Dick looks at the girl who is shaking like a leaf in the wind squeezing her own arms. “Barbara?”

Barbara can feel the vomit climbing up her throat but is way too shaken to react to it. Her feet feel cold and nails digging into her skin painfully. She throws up the strawberry sprinkled donut and coffee to the floor. The thick plumps on the liquid making the coffee coloured stomach acids splash on her feet as they hit the ground.

Grayson gathers her red hair away from her face before supporting her crumbling body as she throws up again gagging and coughing as some of it gets in her nose.

“A warning would’ve been nice, Bruce,” Grayson gnarls accusingly to the Bat who had gotten lost in his thoughts.

“What kind of a person can do that to someone?” Barbara whispers weakly.

Bruce looks at the people around him wondering how he’d feel if any of them would’ve been there in Parker’s place. He can’t blame Wade Wilson for wanting to get Peter Parker out at any cost, especially considering it was very likely the man had known a lot more than what he had led them to believe.  
The stench of vomit stings in his nose and the sound of Barbara’s sobs make the bottom of his stomach fall.

However, he still knows he can’t let Deadpool interfere. Especially after watching all of the videos and seeing Peter’s condition going exponentially worse in a very brief time. Luthor was obviously testing his physical limitations to the extreme even going as far as killing him just to revive him.

Bruce considered showing the video to be a necessary evil in making his mentees realise just how unlikely it was that Peter Parker was alive and even if he was, how much of him could they rescue. Bruce knows Jason wouldn’t try asking him for help but that definitely didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to approach the others.

“Jason contacted me. He wants my help in breaking into S.T.A.R. labs. If we play it smart maybe we can stop them before they get the chance to do anything stupid,” Tim says with a heavy tone feeling ashamed he hadn’t told them right away. Feeling as if he had already betrayed Bruce. They all know Peter Parker is the one who has to take the fall as this whole situation was something that had to be tackled from the top to bottom, which wasn’t a job for the little man and they were all just pawns in the play. Just as Peter Parker.

“Attacking the weakest link. Such a Todd thing to do,” Damian puffs and the fact the youngest of them seems to be the least shaken worries Grayson a little more than he’d like to admit.

“What was that supposed to mean?” Tim asks stingingly glaring at Damian.

_An unknown time ago, somewhere_

Time has never felt so abstract. Minutes, hours, weeks, months? –It was all the same. There is only an eternity of it. His brain is creating sweet distractions from the lack of outside stimulation in the white small room where he has been trapped in for god knows how long. Sometimes he can see colours on the walls, faces appearing on it. He can hear voices he knows aren’t there. They are talking to him, asking questions but unable to hold a conversation.

In the mind-numbing boredom and anxiousness, he forgets to fear the sound of the door’s lock clicking. At least until it does. He scrambles away from it. Presses his sweaty back against the white wall hoping to sink through it.

“Please, don’t,” he says with a voice that is a broken whisper. Not strong enough to carry his plead very far.

The men in the white gowns step in in silence and Peter wishes they would speak to him, because some way he hopes it would make them see him as a person. A real living and breathing thing. He wanted so badly to have some proof he is alive and not see-through like he feels. After the hunger disappearing he has only felt faint, tired but nothing more. Surreal. The horrendous realization that somewhere deep down he loved the pain, the thing they had injected him with so many times, brought him. Even though it sometimes got so bad he pleaded someone to end him. Squirmed and cried just hoping one of the men would come in and put a bullet in his brain but by the end of it he would always feel relieved he could feel something. Anything.

Above everything the thought of getting out was scaring him. He has no idea what this time spent locked down had done to him as he has no way of knowing what was normal. He doesn’t remember happiness, or how it feels to smile. The thought of discovering he had possibly been broken beyond fixing was devastating and the little voice inside his head that usually told him to keep trying and stay strong, was now telling him to let go. But he couldn’t let go. They didn’t let him die.

“Please, I’ll do anything. Just don’t inject me anymore. Anything,” he begs trying to push himself through the wall as the men neared him. He couldn’t even cry anymore. Everything is so empty he feels as if his mind would’ve left his body behind. Abandoned him in order to escape this hell he had began fearing was his life.

“I’m sorry I’m not strong, Tony,” he says to his feet before closing his eyes and bracing himself to what was to come.


	9. Being called by your full name? – RUN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where Peter receives a love confession and Tony Stark a threat.
> 
> “Luckily May Parker has your private number because of the ‘internship’. Now, I don’t know what kind of a relationship you two have but he talks about you constantly and you were, as far as I know, the last person to see him before he went missing. If you get this message, it would be rather regrettable if you shouldn’t reply. I’m talking to you as Peter’s best friend and if you know anything about him, it is time for you to step up,” Harry finishes and while rather regrettable isn’t exactly a threat he sure sets it out as one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go some more spideypool. yay. Sexual content ahead. Not very explicit though.

_3 days before the fateful day, New York, Wade’s flat_

Peter Parker likes to ponder. He finds it difficult to just go about his life taking in whatever it chooses to present him at any given moment. The endless curiosity plaguing him makes him more concerned about the future than what is probably good for him. Peter likes looking for patterns in everything. He loves the satisfaction of recognizing them in any area of life because to him it equals stability, or at least an illusion of it, and ultimately an ability to see into this future his head lives in.

Spider-Man, however, is one for action. The webslinger goes in head first after Peter Parker is done asking the questions. He lets his intuition and senses guide him, and in the process - in a way - degrading him into this almost animalistic state of mind where he is only reacting to current stimulations. Spider-Man adapts instantaneously because his head is where his body is, which is the moment he lives and breathes.

These two parts of him are inseparable and form one whole human even if in his head Peter likes to think of the two as separate entities.

So, naturally all the hasty decisions done wearing the suit, especially the ones including Deadpool, were not Peter’s concern. Or at least they weren’t until his secret identity became less of a secret to the said mercenary. This identity reveal had brought Wade Wilson into his life as Peter Parker and much to his dismay Wade was awfully persistent in thinking Peter Parker and the Spider-Man were one and the same. If he could be friends with Spider-Man, it went without saying that he would also become friends with Peter Parker.  
Even more to Peter’s dismay after a while he had gotten accustomed to Wade’s presence. Actually, more than that: Nowadays every time he was doing something boring for school he checked his phone every once in a while, just to see if the man could be his excuse to stop studying.

Still, every time Wade asked, Peter said no. And each time Wade argued long enough to turn Peter’s head. With time Peter realized he no longer argued because he wouldn’t have wanted to go but rather to keep his self-image consistent. And Peter Parker wasn’t reckless enough to say yes to anything Wade Wilson threw his way.

He had also begun to see consistencies in their relationship. Wade Wilson, who was perhaps the most inconsistent person he’s ever met, reacted to certain things the same. The idea was strange since before paying any mind to it, the only thing he could’ve said about the man with certitude was that he really loved food and his daughter.

He is also hyper aware of how his heartrate picked up every now and then for seemingly no reason when in Deadpool’s company. A development he rightfully hated. But his heart, the wretched traitor, never fastened its phase to a dirty joke or anything sexually suggestive. Only when Wade showed the slice of himself that anyone rarely got to see. The side of him that was thoughtful and respected Peter and the things he said and did. Paid mind to Peter’s morals to the point Wade would actually go out of his way to prevent Peter from doing something that swam against his nature and would regret later.

In short: Peter Parker can not stop thinking about Wade Wilson.

And he is also further realizing his feelings had become a problem after making the fifth booty call to Wade and it wasn’t even Saturday yet. But he just can’t help himself. The way Wade touches him, looks at him, the way he calls him baby.

Peter’s heart is beating like crazy and breathing is rarely so difficult.

“Harder, Wade,” he mumbles under his breath as Wade towers over him while pounding into him.

“I like the way you call my name,” Wade huffs reaching down to kiss Peter’s sweaty cheek before complying to Peter’s plead and fastening his phase.

“Wade, Wade, Wade, Wade, Wade,” the younger repeats frantically on every thrust. His ass feels like it’s on fire and the force with which Wade fucks him is painful, but he still feels like it’s not enough. Peter squeezes his eyes shut and fists the sheets for dear life trying to keep his cries of pain from slipping from his tongue.

“I love you,” Wade says making Peter’s eyes shoot open and the younger draws in a quick breath inhaling some saliva. It tickles so badly and makes him feel like he’s choking. He begins coughing fiercely trying to get rid of the misplaced liquid helping it by beating his chest with his fist. Meanwhile Wade pulls out before forcing Peter to sit up to keep him from choking.

It takes him a while but eventually he manages to draw in a few shaky breaths.

“What?” he asks groggily staring at Wade’s brown eyes.

“I said that I-“

“Blablabla!” Peter yells slapping his hand on Wade’s mouth with an utterly horrified expression stuck on his face.  
“I heard you the first time, I just – No you don’t!” he cries out.

“Yes, I do,” Wade mumbles against Peter’s hand looking at him in all earnest.

_NONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONO! Fuck no!_

Peter can’t stand the feeling of his heart beating through his chest. He couldn’t have any of that. Wade fucking Wilson was most definitely not in love with him. Just as he wasn’t in love with Wade. That’s just not how their relationship worked. They hadn’t had any label on them, which had been the only thing keeping Peter’s mind in peace. At least somewhat.

“I have to go,” he says after a while of the most uncomfortable silence and gets up starting to scramble his clothes on in a hurry.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think I would’ve just threatened to kill you. But I do know better because I’m awkwardly aware that you just rolled your eyes on me when I did actually threaten to kill you, remember?” Wade tells him making Peter slow down his movements just slightly but not enough to convince he wasn’t freaked out. But he is freaking out. Of course, he is.

“I’m not freaking out. I’m just leaving because I remembered that I have things to do,” Peter utters the least convincing lie he’s ever told.

“Forgot your toaster oven on? Yeah, happens to me every time Gretchen wants to talk about my parenting and begins the discussion by saying ‘Wade Winston Wilson’,” Wade chuckles doing an actually good impersonation of his ex-wife. Although Peter doesn’t doubt he had heard Gretchen use that particular tone to say his name often enough. “But rarely when someone is pounding my ass and I’m begging for more.”

“Your second name is Winston?” Peter repeats, not paying any mind to the latter sentence, laughing shortly in ode to the name he finds for some reason awfully amusing. But it does distract Wade just enough for Peter to get the rest of his clothes on.

“See you around,” the younger says hurrying out of the bedroom and quickening his phase when he hears Deadpool scramble after him.

“Don’t be such a baby. Love between two grown men is beautiful! It’s okay to show your feelings! Stop feeding toxic masculinity because that is awfully misogynistic,” Wade rambles as he’s running after Peter.

“What on earth are you on about?” Peter groans not even bothering to ask whether Wade gave thought about what misogynistic actually meant before cramming it into a sentence. Peter unlocked the door and ran into the hallway. The door didn’t have the time to close before Wade stepped out of it completely naked.

“Peter Benjamin Parker, you come back here and let me love you!”

Not today, Wade. Not today.

_New York, Tony Stark’s penthouse_

The bottle is empty when he grabs it. The man looks at it almost accusingly as if it had drunk itself and a part of him almost wishes it would be able to tell him when it had been emptied. But of course, it’s made out of glass and unable to give any answers other than it being definitely empty.

His head aches and a nauseous wave crawls up his throat making him lean to the bar counter for support. Tony swallows and his mouth and throat are so dry it hurts.

“Friday how long was I out?”

“13 hours 35 minutes and 13 seconds.”

_13 hours?_

Then why on earth does he feel like he hadn’t slept in weeks. Why is his body shaking when he stops leaning for support?

“You have eight missed calls. Miss Potts and sergeant Rhodes and a few others left you messages while you were asleep. Would you like me to play them?” F.R.I.D.A.Y asks and Tony puffs out squeezing his eyes shut so tightly he sees stars.

“Maybe later.”

“Thaddeus Ross tried to contact you as well regarding last night’s _incident.”_

Tony frowns upon hearing the name and maybe it’s psychosomatic when his headache seems to get worse. He also doesn’t love the way the A.I.’s tone shifts slightly when saying the word incident.

“On second thought, play me the messages.”

He sits down on the couch, trying to shake the dizziness that is unfortunately stubborn, just in time to hear Pepper’s very unpleased tone.

“Anthony Edward Stark,” not a strong start, or not at least from Tony’s point of view. Because if his mother had taught him anything about strong women it was that when nicknames were brushed aside it usually meant all hell was about to break loose.  
“Had I known you were going to throw your brain out through the window the second my plane leaves U.S. borders I would’ve stayed,” Pepper pauses and draws in a deep breath while her face goes through at least five different stages of disappointment.  
“The funny thing about evolving as a person is that you can’t just suddenly regress without any consequences because people come to expect certain things from you. You have so much going on right now and just think about how passionate you were about all these things, the new internship and funding programs, good will, presentations to show just how much Stark industries can do for this country. You’re not making things easy for us and I know I’ve looked at things through my fingers,” her gaze falls somewhere below the camera as if to avoid awkward eye contact,  
”company wise. But enough is enough. We’ve given you so much time and support. Now it’s your turn to give some back. Stark industries rely on you and if you honestly can’t pull yourself together, you need to step out from your position. Don’t let your past get in front of your future,” Pepper pauses again opening her mouth to say something but apparently thinks better of it and the rest she has to say is accompanied by a deep sigh and an intense glare, “anyway, James needs a word with you and whatever you do just – I’m here. Call me before opening a bottle.”

The message ends and the image stops moving. Tony’s eyes scan her frozen face going over her features over and over again. He smiles at the thought of Pepper worrying over him.

“Play the next message,” he asks F.R.I.D.A.Y scratching his stubbed cheek.

“I have a bad feeling about this. It’s like the last few years wouldn’t have happened at all. Look, Thaddeus is out to get you, so you better not give him any more reasons to hate your sorry ass. From how I’m looking at it, you’re juggling with babies over a pit of hungry crocodiles. Court martial is no fun and games, although we both know you already knew that. I know things right now aren’t ideal and what ended up happening to Shield and the Avengers isn’t exactly how I’d want things to be either but right now you need to be careful. If you keep fucking things up, I’m not sure even your fame and money is enough to brush it all aside anymore. Thaddeus says jump you say how high. Just work with me here and for crying out loud whatever you do – stop making things worse than they already are.”

James’ face is twisted throughout the whole message. Tony can see he is tired and stressed out and he doesn’t have to ask why.

Nothing quite like a good old scolding to start up the morning. Boy he needs something to wash the message down with. Luckily a bottle of expensive bourbon is there to save the day.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, boss,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. is kind enough to inform him and Tony chuckles.

“You’re supposed to be smart enough to know for sure this isn’t a good idea,” he tells the A.I..

“I am but I also know that in order to get someone to change their mind, attacking isn’t effective. Should I put miss Potts on the line for you?” F.R.I.D.A.Y. speaks pulling up the contact to the screen.

Tony spills some of the bourbon on his lap in his hurry to decline. “No, for Pete’s sake, don’t. She didn’t mean I should actually call her. It’s just a polite lie, people feel the need to tell. I know she has other things on her mind.”

“Very well. Should I play the next message?”

“Sure, why the hell not,” Tony shrugs wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Hello, Tony Stark,” the start was an awful attempt of a casual tone and the face on the screen faintly familiar. Tony knows he’s seen the man somewhere but, honestly, he meets a lot of people so it’s hard for him to put a finger on the face.

“You are really very hard to get in contact with, Mr. Stark. I even tried to approach you with a business meeting, but you told my assistant, and I’m quoting here, that you don’t give a rat’s ass about Oscorp,” the young man says laughing a laughter that is as soulless as his smile which Tony recognizes. The young man on the screen was definitely Norman Osborn’s son who had inherited the creepy smile that never reached his crazy eyes. Also, the way he stressed his words oddly making whatever he had to say surprisingly hard to follow. As if he would’ve had so much on his mind that even he himself had only a marginal idea of which words were exiting his mouth before they actually did. It was odd how he seemed to catch every word halfway through. Maybe it had something to do with how sick he looked like. Pale, tired and red eyes. Just like his father had during his last years.

“Friday, did I really say that?” Tony asks making a face.

“I believe your exact words were a lot more vulgar. Would you like me to play the conversation?” the A.I. responds pausing the message from Harry Osborn.

“No, no, I’m fine thanks,” Tony Stark assures pinching his nose and putting down the bottle.

“Luckily May Parker has your private number because of the ‘ _internship_ ’. Now, I don’t know what kind of a relationship you two have but he talks about you constantly and you were, as far as I know, the last person to see him before he went missing. If you get this message, it would be rather regrettable if you shouldn’t reply. I’m talking to you as Peter’s best friend and if you know anything about him, it is time for you to step up,” Harry finishes and while _rather regrettable_ isn’t exactly a threat he sure sets it out as one.

“Where’s Vision?” he asks trying to call for him but gets no reply.

Also, the _internship -_ with quotation marks? He recalls meeting Harry Osborn a few years back when he had attended Norman Osborn’s funeral and the meeting had been unpleasant. Surprisingly not because of the premise. Harry hadn’t been too delighted to see him show up for one reason or another and honestly, especially after the message implying he would have a sexual relationship with Peter Parker and that he’d know Peter’s whereabouts and even handing out a generous threat, didn’t really help Tony see Harry Osborn as a likeable character. Although, he figured it was nice to see Peter had caring friends.

“I’m afraid he has disabled tracking,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. answers and Tony huffs.

“Just great. Fantastic!” Tony states getting up and slapping his hands on his thighs in the process.

“Should I play the message from Thaddeus Ross as well?”

“I think I’ll save that gem for later. You know, when I’m cold and lonely in the midst of night and want someone to fuck me in the ass so hard I can’t feel my legs,” Tony says nonchalantly while stretching. “Could you open the files I retrieved from S.H.I.E.L.D. in the lab? And also, be a doll and start up the coffee maker. I have a feeling this might take a while.”

Tony Stark remembers looking into Peter’s brown eyes long and hard. He can still sense the disappointment the younger’s presence had held upon realising things hadn’t changed as much as Tony himself had assured. Tony knows he has voluntarily set a premise for letting down Peter and himself, twice. First when Peter had kissed him four months ago, and in his haze to get past the awful situation Tony had said a lot of things he hadn’t meant. All of them praising how great Peter was, how he had surpassed his mentor.

Tony figured both of them knew his words would be said only to be taken back by a situation that began to show just how much Tony distrusted him. And when the day finally had come, and the man had been yet again faced with the pleading eyes and the words

_You don’t have to trust him but I do_

_I got this Mr. Stark_

_I’m wearing my big boy pants_

he had lied again. Tony hadn’t wanted to. In fact, he would’ve done almost anything if he could’ve stood there looking Peter in the eyes and tell him straight on how much he trusted him without having to lie. The man didn’t think he didn’t trust Peter per say but it had more or less to do with the fact that he didn’t think of himself as someone capable of judgement.

Now he was way past that. Because merely by starting to look for the boy he had made it very clear he expected something to be wrong even if he thought it to be within his rights to be worried. Still, sometimes trust was all about letting go and Tony Stark was uncapable of that.

_Gotham City, Crime alley_

“Calm down, Tim,” Bruce speaks from Tim’s earpiece.

“Stop telling me to calm down. It’s making my nerves worse,” Tim whines back quietly in case Jason is already close. He was on edge and every little noise damn near makes him jump. His heart is stuck on his throat and he wishes Jason would’ve contacted anyone but him.

If he makes even one slip, Jason would be gone. There is no way in hell he could beat him in direct combat. It wasn’t because he would’ve been a lousy fighter, but he liked to use his brain instead of his fists, which was the opposite of Jason.

Then it happens. His whole body tenses up as someone’s fingers jab at his ear and remove the earpiece. Tim hops away from the presence he can feel on his back and turns around in a haze to see Jason staring back at him. With a quirked eyebrow and holding the receiver between his fingers.

“Really?” the older asks dropping the small device and stepping on it. It crumbles beneath his shoe with a silent crack. “Not off to a strong start.”


	10. Today's forecast: Apocalypse with a 50% chance of raining men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He hastily checks the stalls in the smelly bathroom before answering the call.  
> “Hey, Mr. Stark! How’s it hanging?” he begins the conversation trying to seem confident and not worried at all. In a way he almost hopes his fake casual/chill tone would rub off on Tony Stark as well but of course it doesn’t.  
> The smile on the man’s lips is possibly the second most passive aggressive thing he’s ever seen. (The first being Aunt May’s fake-smile whenever she catches Peter lying and dares him to continue.)  
> “Riddle me this,” Stark begins wiping away the disingenuous smile with his hand, “what is blue and red and is currently swinging around in downtown Queens?”
> 
> Or the one where Wade hates being brushed aside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know anymore. Just... You know. More Spideypool. Yay? And also Peter is a mess.
> 
> Anyway. Sorry about the possible mistakes and as always, thank you for reading♥

_1 Day before the fateful incident ~~that had absolutely nothing to do with Wade Wilson, okay? He is the hero of this story,~~  E.S.U.classroom 102_

 

 **DON'T PICK UP:  
** _Yesterday_

(7:30 p.m.) **  
** You know

Petey pete, here’s the deal:  
You can go ahead and try to avoid me  
But deep down you know that Imma come for your ass sooner or l8r

(8:02 p.m.)  
Maybe I’ll drop by your school

(8:15 p.m.)  
or  
you know  
your awkwardly hot aunt who has an old woman’s name that doesn’t suit her at all  
(it’s almost like she used to be older or something)  
  
(9:46 p.m.)  
do yourself a favour and pick up the phone  
  
(10:11 p.m.)  
I have a lot of love to give you and you’ll either let me love you or you’ll cry and be loved

(10:16 p.m.)  
I just realized how creepy that sounded  
But I regret none of it

_Today_

(12:05 a.m.)  
Also, I was wondering if you could by any chance tell Gretchen that I’m sorry for buying my girl a donkey without asking her first  
  
(12:09 a.m.)  
I’d tell her myself but coincidentally she’s blocked my number, sooo…  
  
(01:56 a.m.)  
Also also, I’m thinking about breaking into SHIELD, you coming w/?  
  
(02:41 a.m.)  
about the donkey, you don’t have to call her anymore. But do you think my landlord will get angry if Francis eats the baseboards?  
Francis is my new donkey  
Do you think I could train it to be my sidekick?

Is that a thing still? Animal sidekicks?

(03:21 a.m.)  
I think it can poop on command now  
  
(02:31 p.m.)  
Fine, have it your way then  
I’m about to do something really fucking stupid, Pete. I didn’t want to do this, but my hands are tied  
  
(02:33 p.m.)  
Also, I’ve snorted so much crystal meth even my farts are just white puffs  
  
(02:35 p.m.)  
Uhh, hypothetically speaking, do you think someone’s farts could get a donkey high?

Asking for a friend  
  
(02:45 p.m.)  
I didn’t find an answer on google  
Surprisingly there is not a lot of people asking that

But I think it’s definitely plausible bcz Francis is acting a little funny

(02:51 p.m.)  
Who knew donkeys could kick down walls  
I’d kill him but I think I’m more afraid of him than he is of me  
I mean, holy fucktweedles the back on that one

(03:01 p.m.)  
Anywho, see you soon webs <3

 

Peter is scrolling down the messages frowning to himself. There were so many things he found hilarious but also awfully concerning. Above all the fact that the plan of breaking into SHIELD almost slipped past him surrounded with all the other shit Wade had sent.

“Who are you texting, Pete?” Harry whispers and Peter turns off the screen the instant he realizes his friend is trying to read the messages over his shoulder.

He doesn’t get the chance to lie when the physics professor intervenes pausing the lecture by speaking directly at Peter:

“Do you have something you’d like to share with the class? Some scientific breakthrough on your phone possibly since it couldn’t wait until the class is over?”

Peter can feel sweat beginning to push through his skin that has turned positively red and burning under everybody’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Gwen Stacy speaks up from the first row waving her phone on her hand, “he was actually texting me.  I didn’t understand the last segment of your notes and I didn’t want to bother you so I asked him.”

Peter releases the air he had been holding in while Harry rolls his eyes.

The professor shifts his squinted eyes on the blond young woman and their expression soften.

“Very well. Next time just ask me. I have a strict policy about cell phones in class, as I’m sure you all know by now.”

“I don’t get what she sees in you,” Harry mutters under his breath when Stacy flashes a smile at Peter before turning her attention back to the professor who continued his lecturing with an awfully monotone voice.

“She’s just being nice. Don’t be so jealous,” Peter grins.

“Who is TS?” Harry asks nodding towards Peter’s phone that had begun to vibrate silently on the desk.

_Incoming videocall TS_

“I got to take this. See you after class,” Peter says scrambling his stuff into his backpack in a haze.

“Parker, for heaven’s sake, could you stop making that racket!” the professor groans and Peter flashes a smile that forgets to be as apologetic as his words.

“Sorry, I’ll – uh,” he throws his bag on his shoulder grabbing the phone, “show myself out.”

Peter tries to ignore Harry’s eyes on him as he walks out the glass trying not to show how anxious he actually is and the second he closes the classroom door he starts sprinting towards the closest toilet.

He hastily checks the stalls in the smelly bathroom before answering the call.

“Hey, Mr. Stark! How’s it hanging?” he begins the conversation trying to seem confident and not worried at all. In a way he almost hopes his fake casual/chill tone would rub off on Tony Stark as well but of course it doesn’t.

The smile on the man’s lips is possibly the second most passive aggressive thing he’s ever seen. (The first being Aunt May’s fake-smile whenever she catches Peter lying and dares him to continue.)

“Riddle me this,” Stark begins wiping away the disingenuous smile with his hand, “what is blue and red and is currently swinging around in downtown Queens?”

Peter furrows his brows. _Riddle me this? This is not good, Peter. He is mad. Furious! What the heck have you done now. Oh my god. Okay, okay. Act cool._

“I skipped the rest of my class for… Riddles?” he asks slowly and Tony blinks at him. The man licks his lips and smacks them together silently before bobbing his head slightly in an irritated manner.

“How about I give you a hint? - It’s unfortunately not you, it is most definitely high out of its mind, it has a real foul mouth and more than a few _nice_ things to say about you apparently avoiding it.”

Peter’s heart skips a beat. _No… Wade couldn’t. Right?_

“Mr. Stark, I –”

“Oh, and did I forget to mention the best part? His call interrupted my meeting with Ross. A real treat since he had a couple of nice things to say about our old buddy Thaddeus as well. Absolute blast, Peter,” Tony says picking up his tone in an awful fake amusement that does nothing to puff out the flames in the man’s brown eyes.  
Okay, so maybe Wade had stolen his Spider Man costume but it’s not like it’s Peter’s fault. How could he had known avoiding his calls would lead to this. Or actually – never mind that. _Of course_ , he should’ve known.

Peter closes his eyes to get a break from his mentor’s intense glare and to take a moment to collect himself.

“Look, I’m sure there is an explanation—”

“No! You listen to me, kid, and listen good,” Tony interrupts borderline yelling as he points one accusing finger towards the camera. “I don’t know if you’ve ever had to explain to the secretary of the state why your ‘ _mentee_ ’ facetimes you, first of all in the middle of a meeting, second of all high as a kite while going around the city hanging shit up and last but not the least, tells him that _god wasted a good asshole by putting teeth in his mouth_ , but I assure you it’s something I hadn’t even hoped I’d never have to do because the thought wouldn’t have even crossed my mind. However, now I know it’s awfully hard to convince this said secretary of state that everything is fine and dandy. Go figure.”

Peter is trying his best to wrap his head around everything Tony had just told him.

So, Wade had stolen Peter’s spider suit and web shooters, while high, and facetimed with Tony Stark and called Thaddeus Ross an asshole? To his face? And hanging shit up -- What did that even mean?  
He had no idea but none of it sounded forgivable.  
He felt like the bottom of his stomach would’ve been in a loop of falling over and over again and just gathering momentum.

“Oh, fuck! Tony, I’m so sorry. I had no idea that he could _-would_ —” he starts but doesn’t get very far with his sentence.

“Zip it!” Tony Stark interrupts him yet again but it’s not like anything Peter says would help the situation in any case. On the contrary, Tony probably just unknowingly saved Peter from a world of trouble by not letting him speak since Peter had a tendency to verbally dig his own grave whenever he tried to save any situation not going his way.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it. You promised me you have him under control, Parker. Handle it, _now_ , or I will do it for you. Trust me when I tell you just how much you don’t want that - and for your friend’s sake be glad that I don’t want that either,” Tony says frowning.

“Send me the coordinates,” Peter asks with a broken voice he tries so hard to keep together.

“I’m sending them to your phone now,” the man mumbles eyes looking away the camera while he types with the phone.

“Is the suit unharmed?” the younger asks carefully.

“You better pray it is,” Tony laughs soullessly, “and FYI, next time you throw this kind of shit my way, I’ll know better than to catch it. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice…”

“Got it. I’m practically already there,” Peter says biting the inside of his cheek to stop the nervous tears from building up. He had no idea how Deadpool even managed to be so frustrating. Perhaps one of the most agonizing thing being the fact that the young man so rarely knew whether to laugh or cry when finding himself in situations like this. He is awfully aware that from an outsider’s point of view the situation would be laughable and if his life would’ve been a light-hearted comedy, it would’ve gone without consequences. But unfortunately, his life couldn’t be considered light-hearted. Nor a comedy for that matter. Laughable though? Maybe to someone with a dark sense of humour and a strong tendency to laugh at other people’s misfortune. So, Wade Wilson, basically.  
  
“And Mr. Stark?”

Tony is obviously done with the discussion, but he doesn’t hang up. Instead the man quirks up one eyebrow to signal he’s listening.

“Thank you. I really mean it,” Peter says giving a go with the puppy eyes.

“You’d have to suck my dick cheeks hollowed for the rest of your days in order to ever fully repay me,” Tony Stark replies dully. Peter knows it’s just a figure of speech, but his dick has a mind of its own. Maybe even ears too because it certainly likes what its hearing.

“I would do that for you,” he answers meekly before he can stop himself.

_Now is not the time, Peter. What the fuck are you thinking?_

“Of course, you would say that,” the man mutters dryly before hanging up and leaving Peter cursing to himself.

_Downtown Queens, 30 minutes later_

“I’m going to murder you in your sleep, I swear to god,” Peter mutters to himself landing on a narrow side alley to check Wade’s location from his phone. He adjusts his old awful spandex for the millionth time despising the way the cheap material tickles his skin. He finds it unbelievable how he had been able to fight in them let alone even wear them.

His spideysense interrupts his thoughts and he has less than a second to move to the side when a bang fills the quiet alleyway making his ears hum. A bullet flies an inch from his left temple and his heart jumps to his throat as he spins around to find a barrel of a gun staring back at him. A barrel of a gun and Wade in his suit.

”You shot me,” Peter cries out and repeats himself when the realisation really hits him in the face, “you shot me!”

“No, I did not,” the man in Peter’s suit huffs waving his hand in the air showing exactly how ridiculous he finds the claim. “I shot _at_ you.”

Peter’s eyes are glued on the literal smoking gun for a good while before his gaze traces the assumed track the bullet had travelled ending on the hole on the red brick wall behind him.

“You could’ve killed me!” he says accusingly.

“Finally, someone acknowledges my power. Yes Webs, I definitely could kill you. Thank you,” Wade answers heartily placing his gloved hand on his chest. The younger has horror fresh in his eyes as he had seen his own life flash before them just seconds ago. But the supposed seriousness of the situation hadn’t reached the man in front of him, which doesn’t calm him down even one bit.

“What is wrong with you! I thought you wanted to be a hero,” Peter frowns wondering whether webbing the man would lessen his chances of getting the stolen property a.k.a. his suit back.

“I do, don’t get me wrong. But like, your reputation is reasonable, you have a nice, very nice suit, and this shit has A.I. imagine that! Why do your own homework when you can copy someone else’s right?” the man exclaims cheerily making Peter even more furious. Wade had no right to be so happy when this was the most anxious Peter had been in years.

“Because homework isn’t done for school, you do it so that you learn things. And this isn’t copying homework. This is stealing a perfectly good essay and changing everything that makes it good. Spider-Man would never wield a gun. I don’t kill. And even my web dissolves in two hours, so...” _And now you’re just being derogatory, great job on acting cool, Pete. No wonder MJ hasn’t gone on a date with you._

“Two hours?” the man gasps slamming his hands on his cheeks very dramatically. “Oh boy. Today’s weather forecast – It’s gonna start raining men in about fifteen minutes.”

Peter’s heart seizes at the statement. “What? Are you kidding me?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Wade Wilson asks hands still on his cheeks in a dramatic pose and given that one of them was still holding a gun while the other was a size fit for a baby, Peter could’ve definitely argued the man in front of him does look like he’s kidding.

“Is that a trick question?” he asks with a shyly rising intonation that only hints at how much he really does want Deadpool to be joking about it.

“You’re so sweet,” the raspy voice purrs and then the man looks at the children’s watch on his wrist finally letting his hands fall. “And it’ll rain more than men. I’ve been hanging up shit all day long.”

 _Holy Mary and his firstborn_. _No, no, no, no, no._ “Okay, how many?” he asks.

“I stopped counting after ten and a half,” Deadpool replies after counting with his fingers for so long even thirty sounds more likely than eleven.

_AND A HALF? Oh god._

“Ten and a half? Please tell me the half is a midget joke.”

“I made some slight miscalculations. Terribly boring, I’m sure you won’t want to hear it,” the man waves his hand and puffs.

“Fudge, fudge, fudge, “Peter ‘curses’ out loud before realising how lame he must sound but at the moment impressing Deadpool is the last thing on his mind. _Fifteen minutes? I can still salvage this, okay. Concentrate._ “All right. Where are these ten and a half men?”

“Sounds like the lousiest sitcom ever. I imagine it’s the same as two and a half men but there’s like nine Charlie Sheens,” the man in red says shuddering like it would’ve suddenly gotten minus degrees, “the horror.”

“Locations! Spill, please. I have to save them, we’re running a little short on time,” Peter urges waving with his hands.

“Are you sure? I mean those guys aren’t exactly innocent old grandmas and children. Well they are _somebody’s_ children but—”

“Shush. Unless you tell me the locations I’m not listening,” he stops the man.

“But-“

“No.”

“I was-“

“Don’t care.”

“If I help you, you have to stop avoiding me,” the man says quickly.

“Fine, yeah, whatever, “Peter groans grabbing the man’s arm to see the time. “Thirteen minutes, Wade!”

“And you’ll break into SHIELD labs with me,” Deadpool continues demandingly.

“What? No! Are you crazy?!” Peter groans with frustration using all his willpower to stop himself from stomping his feet. At moments like these he really hoped he’d never even met Wade Wilson in the first place. It was odd how considering everything that had happened between them that Peter always found himself taken aback by the reality of how toxic their relationship really was.

“According to some people, yes. Time is running short, Spidey! What’s it gonna be?” Wade asks tapping his watch.

“Fuck,” Peter curses through gritted teeth and slams his fist into the red brick wall next to him. The bricks crackle under his fist. “This is blackmailing, Wade.”

“No, it isn’t. It’s called negotiating,” Deadpool argues.

“Not if you threaten me with something,” Peter whines pathetically in hopes that Wade would pick up on just how much of a pickle Peter was in already because of his actions.

“Do you really want to bicker about dictionary definitions right now?”

“Fine – fuck. Okay, whatever. I’ll do it!”

Born and raised in Queens. Boy is he glad he knows the area like his back pockets as he swings around following Wade’s instructions that were more like _that tall yellow building next to that dirty ass strip club where they serve that awful cheap beer but I go there occasionally because one of the strippers looks like my mom, yeah we had a weird relationship_ than actual street names or addresses. The whole time his head came up with catchy headlines for the Daily Bugle that would surely pick up the news story.

He could also practically hear _Jolly_ Jonah Jameson’s, who by the way was the least jolly person Peter had ever met, starting a witch-hunt on the _friendly_ neighbourhood Spider-Man. A title Peter had, for the record, worked very hard to achieve and wasn’t going to lose because Deadpool preferred hanging up criminals rather than laundry.

Even though their rescue operation goes seemingly smoothly, Peter is a bit thrown off by the fact that he doesn’t find the half man and when they meet on their rendezvous point he doesn’t even want to ask anymore. He just hopes trusting Deadpool to actually help him for once wouldn’t come back to bite him in the ass later.

“Chimichanga?” Deadpool asks clapping his hands together after setting down the last of the unsuspecting people he had webbed.

“Chimichanga,” Peter parrots deflating with a relieved sigh that seems to pump Wade full of air.

***

“You know what? I’m just going to say it,” Peter says cutting short Wade’s story he hadn’t really paid any attention to in the first place.

“That you love me back?” Wade mumbles with his mouth full of food.

Peter furrows his brows looking at Wade long and hard before shaking his head.

“I can’t even begin to describe how much I fucking hate you right now,” Peter says surprising even himself with the calmness of the statement. “Fuck you, Wade. Seriously. Fuck. You.”

Wade lowers his head as he reaches up to scratch the back of his neck.

“I fucked up, okay. I’m sorry,” the man says turning to look at Peter. His words sound earnest and his apologetic gaze backs it up.

“Yeah, well, sorry doesn’t cut it,” Peter frowns recycling Tony Stark’s words and tears his eyes away from Wade’s so that he couldn’t be tricked into forgiving him. In a way Peter understands Wade Wilson. Undoubtedly a lot more than he would’ve liked to, but he had to draw the line somewhere and he knows he should’ve done it sooner. He is sick and tired of being understanding.

“I have feelings too, you know. And this ‘hot and cold’ thing is seriously like their abusive step dad beating them for leaving the kitchen cupboards open again,” Deadpool says earning back Peter’s attention.

“Are you fishing for pity? Because I’m all out,” Peter replies. “What about my feelings, Wade? I don’t throw a tantrum and ruin other people’s lives just because they don’t love me back and I want their attention.”

“Not even Tony Stark’s?” Wade asks making Peter flinch.

“This has nothing to do with Tony. This is strictly between us,” he deflects even though somewhere very deep inside he knew it was a fair point. In a way, he had kept Wade around and done so many stupid things out of pride and of a will to prove himself as someone capable of doing their own decisions. To prove himself specifically to Tony. But those thoughts lived somewhere buried six feet under some sweet denial.

“I don’t think you really understand how much shit I put up with you and to be honest even I’m only realizing it myself. Sometimes I wish we’d never met,” the younger says lost in thought.

“Fair enough,” Wade chuckles.

“Hm?”

“Just say you want me gone and I’ll leave Queens. I swear on Hamlet the Poodle’s grave,” Deadpool says stealing all air from Peter’s lungs.

Somehow it all feels, to Peter, unfair. Just as it has always been unfair towards Wade that Peter continuously put all the blame on him. He hates to admit it but the way he had convinced himself and everyone around him how he hated to spend time with Deadpool - or at least did it reluctantly out of some kind of courtesy - it had obviously turned from the truth to a blatant lie. It is something he had convinced himself to keep his halo that much brighter and he would have to either swallow his pride and admit it or maybe lose Wade.

“Tell me to ‘sashay away, Wade’,” Wade says in an awful imitation of RuPaul while he leans closer to Peter. Inching their faces closer while the younger just watches him.

“I want you gone,” the words slip off his tongue when Wade’s lips are so close to grazing his.

“Ouch,” Deadpool grimaces lifting his hand to wipe away a tear Peter hadn’t noticed sheading. “I was actually just fucking with you, but you took my virgin ass and shoved your arm elbow deep into it.”

“You’d have to suck my dick cheeks hollowed for the rest of your days in order to ever repay me,” Peter mumbles throwing more of Tony’s words at his friend.

“You want me to start my payment right away?” Wade asks pecking Peter’s cheek and Peter huffs a bitter laughter.

“Yes, but I’ll still give the disappointed parent treatment,” he says trying not to mimic Wade’s lopsided smile.

“I’m going to act like a disappointed parent so hard on your ass you won’t sit for months,” the younger mumbles in between lazy kisses and he can feel the other man’s grin widen against his lips.

“That is so evil. But still you left me a chance not to throw an awful child molester joke, like the one where—”

Peter rolls his eyes lifting his hand to shut Wade up.

“Less speaking, more dick sucking.”

“Jesus Christ, it’s like I made you with a computer,” Wade Wilson purrs into Peter’s palm. “I love you.”

“Of course you do.”

 


	11. Another not-so-heartwarming reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “But I need you to be honest with me, Jason. What’s going on with you two? You can be a little impulsive, but this is just reckless. Even for you,” Tim says slowing down his talking as his eyes spot something red and gold coursing through the air and closing in rapidly. “What is that?”
> 
> Both Jason and Deadpool turn to look out the window. Jason just furrows his brows, while Wade’s face goes pale out of horror.
> 
> “An old friend,” Wade Wilson all but squeaks making a weird face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOOPS. I was supposed to save this as a draft but I accidentally posted it. Fml. Well, no matter. Hopefully it is still readable XD  
> I'll go over the mistakes later. Sorry!  
> Thank you for reading still!

_Gotham City, GCPD building_

James Gordon has an intuition. It is nothing uncommon, but still something he latches onto as lately it is the only one he feels to be correct. It wasn’t exactly unheard of that something felt fishy in a murder investigation either but this time around he is positive that something was _very wrong_. Especially the way the Batman had seemed more than a little reluctant to discuss details about the man in red suddenly disappearing (among so many other things) had gotten him on his toes.

During his visit to the Star labs facility he had felt an eerie mood hang over the silence followed by him entering the building. All eyes glued on his back as if looking at him in the eyes would’ve been lethal. All except one person, Lucy Dean, who, according to her own words, had been friends with Alex Swayne for years. Although Jim had deduced very quickly that Alex Swayne had been perhaps a little too friendly with the young attractive Dean for a married person.  
Lucy Dean had followed James Gordon to Swayne’s small office and closed the door behind them. She had closed the blinds on the flimsy door as well and hovered above the desk anxiously the entirety of the time Jim had gone through its contents. James had known the woman had followed him to discuss something in confidence. That much had been for sure. But why the woman hadn’t said anything and had answered each question presented to her awfully vaguely and on the other hand describing a few less important details with care, was definitely worrying. The look in her brown eyes unintentionally honest. Trapped, anxious and scared. Or maybe James had forgotten what sheer sadness looked like, but it was an option he didn’t really want to consider.

The man stares at the pack of cigarettes on his desk. Placed next to the white small box that hid the awfully sweet donut he had bought for Barb on his way back from the labs just as promised. Only he had bought it the day before and when he had been driving home a voice on the radio had informed him of a shootout near the Iceberg lounge. The donuts had been melting in the passenger seat for hours as the man had been crouched behind the vehicle for cover and after the situation had been dismantled, he had driven back to the station and abandoned the sugary treat with melted frosting on his desk.

He grabs the pack opening it with trembling fingers. The stale coffee on his desk waiting for him to either down it or pour it away. The smell of it giving him a headache.

He puts one cigarette between his lips and goes through his pockets for a lighter.

“I thought you were going to quit,” a low voice says from the corner to his right making James flinch so violently the cigarette falls from his mouth, bounces from his knee and lands on the floor next to his feet.

“I was. I mean I have,” James deflects turning to face the speaker.

“I can see that,” Nightwing says folding his arms on his chest.

“Are you here to tell me what the hell is going on?” Jim asks crouching down to pick up the fallen object. He glances at Richard harshly from the corner of his eye making the younger feel uneasy.

“More to give you some friendly advice. On behalf of a mutual friend,” Nightwing replies trying to sound at least half as certain and unwavering as Gordon.

“Batman’s behalf, huh? Too busy to come see me himself?” Gordon asks a deep frown pulling down the corners of his mouth. He reaches to his desk to turn down the picture of Barbara before lighting the cigarette.

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you drop the investigation of the murder of Alex Swayne for now. It is way too dangerous,” Dick says hating the way Gordon closes his eyes and smiles at his words as he pulls a long drag from the smoke, relishing at the feeling the nicotine brings him. The man takes his sweet time exhaling before slowly getting up from his squeaky chair and straightening himself into full posture.

“And dare I ask what is so god damn dangerous about it? I’ve been a cop in this fucking town for so long that if death comes my way now, I think it’s long overdue,” he states harshly.

“This is different, Gordon. This isn’t just about Gotham anymore,” Dick begins and James quirks up one eyebrow like daring Dick to say the words he is expecting him to say. “You’re just going to have to trust me for now, Jim.”

James Gordon hovers over his desk. Both strong hands squeezing the edge of it so hard all colour is drained from his knuckles. He has lost count of how many times he has been treated unworthy of trust. A part of him realises throwing a tantrum would be completely out of his own self righteousness and the only thing suffering – at least judging from past experiences – was his ego. But then again, he had given one opportunity after another, shared confidential information, always been on his side and after everything it was all just thrown to his face at the end of the day.

His head hurts and the quick pulsing of his heart is reflecting an awful familiar pain on his left shoulder. He can almost feel the weight of the current situation snapping the camel’s back and without even thinking about it he grabs his half empty coffee mug and hurls it to the floor. The black stale coffee staining the blue carpet covering the floor and the porcelain cracking with a series of high-pitched squeaks.

“A family has been slaughtered like pigs into their home and you expect me not to give a damn because you say so?!” he roars forgetting to care about anyone else possibly finding out about his unwanted guest.

Nightwing lowers his batons just as Jim’s eyes crawl high enough to see them and his initial thought is pride for scaring the supposed scarer but it is quickly wiped away with frustration both in himself and in the situation.

“I know how this sounds but please. If nothing else, do it for Barbara,” Richard knows it’s a low blow, but it is really the only thing he could come up with that might make any difference. Other than spilling the beans about everything going on, which could and would most likely put the man in danger.

“I do _this_ for her, Nightwing. I catch the bad guys so that she can be safe,” Jim retorts and Dick wants to smack himself. He had walked right into that one.

“Fair enough,” Dick sighs lifting his hands up to show defeat. “I can appreciate that, but I’ve got to ask you – is that the whole truth, Jim? Because the way I see it she is safest with you.”

_Somewhere in the Burrows_

 “Are you serious?” Tim cries out frowning as he looks at the two men. “Can you even call that a plan? Because I wouldn’t.”

“What? I think it’s a great plan,” Wade shrugs and Jason smacks him in the back of his head.

“It’s a start. I mean, we might have to get a contact who is on the inside and I actually have just the person picked out for that,” Jason says muffling Deadpool by putting his hand on the man’s mouth when he tries to speak up.

“No, no contacts Jason. That is way too risky. Look at what happened to Swayne in literally hours after he gave us those files,” Tim says grimly, “I mean, they didn’t just neutralize him but his whole family.”

The way Jason’s expression flickers Drake can tell this was new information to him.

“They aren’t all bad people, Jason. They are just victims of the circumstance. We can’t risk sacrificing them to save someone else,” Drake reminds Jason disliking the need to even do that.

“But your buddy Brucie is willing to let my Spidey get killed,” Wade protests and Tim can’t fight the urge to groan anymore.

“It’s not the same thing,” he begins with so many thoughts circling in his head just dying to get out, but he silences them before speaking up again: “That’s beside the point. I didn’t say I wouldn’t help. Just, no casualties, okay? We can’t drag other people into this. If we are willing to risk our lives that’s up to us. But we can’t make that decision for anyone else.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Jason agrees.

“But I need you to be honest with me, Jason. What’s going on with you two? You can be a little impulsive, but this is just reckless. Even for you,” Tim says slowing down his talking as his eyes spot something red and gold coursing through the air and closing in rapidly. “What is that?”

Both Jason and Deadpool turn to look out the window. Jason just furrows his brows, while Wade’s face goes pale out of horror.

“An old friend,” Wade Wilson all but squeaks making a weird face.

“What?” Tim can’t seem to figure out which question to ask first so he asks the one that could be interpreted in almost any way relying on Deadpool to give out the most useful information, which in retrospect would most likely seem like a dumb idea.

“You have two friends?” Jason Todd furrows his brows eyes glued to the object flying towards them. By the look of Wade Tim has a hard time believing the man was telling the truth. At least it was highly unusual for anyone to look like they would be about to come into contact with a thousand meter tidal wave when reconnecting with an old friend."But then why do you look like you would've seen a ghost?"

Wade goes through his pockets showing a small device looking at it as it blinks dimly on his palm. “Because I stole something of his.”

“Why would you steal from your friend, Wade?” Tim airs his suspicions glancing at the small, almost microscopic, item the man is holding. In the meantime, Jason squints his eyes to see more clearly as the thing grows bigger as it approaches. He is pretty sure he can separate a bright blue glow that wasn’t there before.

“It’s just a tracker, dimwit. Not like I stole his wife,” Wade retorts frowning.

“Why would you st—” Tim’s sentence is interrupted abruptly by Jason shouting:

“Tim, look out!”


	12. Goodbye (for good) Baby Monitor Protocol!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re telling me that out of all the things in here? All he took was a copy of the plans?” Banner hums smiling his signature tense non-smile which tended to paint his face quite often without him even knowing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is superduper short. I've been struggling with writers block for a while now and it's only gotten worse.  
> This chapter was supposed to include Deadpool and Jason's first meeting but it's taking me forever to write and I feel anxious for not updating in such a long time so I decided I'd just post this now and try to add their meeting as a separate chapter sometime soon (hopefully tomorrow). 
> 
> I also just realized I might've gone a "little" overboard with this fic since I came into this with only a vague idea. This is just a huge mess with the plot holes and everything, hahha. I might have to do some tweaking once I finally finish this project.
> 
> But a huge thank you for anyone who takes the time to read this work. Means a lot since this has been plenty fun to write (at least before the block...)  
> THX♥

_A week before the fateful day, Tony’s penthouse_

“What’s missing?” Bruce asks looking around the lab that was splattered with blood. Expensive equipment trashed, and he has to cringe as he can’t help but to estimate the price tag on the damage. Not that Tony Stark out of all people would’ve had any issues covering the bill but on the top of his head Bruce could come up with so many other ways to use the money.

“Besides my dignity?” Tony asks sitting down on top of a small dented metallic drawer that was laying on the floor on its back.

“What the hell happened here? I mean, how’d he even get in to wreck all this stuff?” Banner frowns kicking a loose robot arm.

“That’s not important now,” Tony replies tensely and Bruce furrows his brows opening his hands to his sides. Hunching his shoulders slightly in order not to throw off Tony who was obviously in a defensive mood for some reason.

“ _How_ is it not important? Friday, play the surveillance from two hours ago,” he says and Tony jumps up shaking his head.

“Playing the tape—”

“No, Friday, that’s not necessary.”

“Okay, what’s on those tapes Tony? There’s obviously something you’re keeping from me,” Bruce presses folding his arms on his chest and cocking his head to look at his friend from under his brows. Tony blinks once or twice before rolling his eyes.

“I might’ve upgraded my security a little one night when I got bored and it’s a little,” the man pauses making a face he then wipes away with his hand leaving behind squinted eyes that stare through Bruce, “unhinged.”

“Upgraded? What was wrong with it before?” Bruce mutters spinning on the spot slowly to get an overlook of the lab he could barely even recognize. “And a little unhinged? Look at this mess.”

“Yeah, Banner, I’m looking all right. It just needs a little tweaking that’s all,” Tony frowns rubbing his goatee. A nervous tick Bruce had only had the pleasure to witness once or twice since meeting the man.

“I think _you_ might need some tweaking, Tones,” Banner huffs defeatedly and leans his weight on the only desk that was still standing up. “What’d he steal?”

“Plans of the Spider-suit. Or a copy of them,” Stark says.

“You’re telling me that out of all the things in here? All he took was a copy of the plans?” Banner hums smiling his signature tense nonsmile which tended to paint his face quite often without him even knowing.

“Seems that way,” Tony replies already anticipating the follow-up question he had no intention of answering truthfully.

“Why?” Bruce asks after realizing Tony wouldn’t grant him any explanation spontaneously. He knows Tony could be evasive when it came to his personal life but this level of unwillingness to discuss an issue, in the middle of which Tony had purposely invited Bruce, was beginning to give him a headache.

“Beats me,” Tony shrugs with bright eyes. Banner doesn’t let go of his demanding gaze straight away but suddenly the other man seems to have no problem facing him. That could only mean one thing: The walls were up again, and they were built so thick and dense even Hulk couldn’t bust through them. Banner sighs biting the inside of his cheek as his eyes follow the blood splatters across the floor, walls and even the ceiling before seizing to examine a severed hand flipping him off in a pool of sticky red.

“Looks like he left you a little something too,” he points out gesturing lazily in the general direction of the said severed hand lying among the rubble. “What if it had been someone who can’t grow new limbs?”

“Yeah, well for some reason there is not an abundance of people trying to break in to my lab so I haven't really gotten around to testing it. Like I said, the system needs a little tweaking,” Tony reminds him as his self-defence.

“There is a severed hand on your floor,” Bruce says slowly but pointedly not really sure what he is trying to achieve with his words. A reaction of some sorts perhaps.

“Stop talking and see what we can salvage, okay?”

 

_Now, Outside the GCPD station_

“Did you get that Batman?” Nightwing says to his earpiece pausing to catch his breath on the rooftop of an office building. He stays crouched at the edge watching the fire engines and police cars speeding past below him. He could feel droplets of sweat falling down his cheeks. He swipes them off just to feel new ones pushing through his moist skin. The mask on his face feels uncomfortable and tickly.

“ _I did. An explosion at the burrows. Eyewitnesses talking about a blue light and a golden flying object. What are your coordinates_?” Bruce replies immediately.

“I’m pretty close.  Just outside the GCPD building. Should I go without you? Gordon just lit the Batsymbol.”

“ _Gordon can wait since you obviously just spoke with him_ ,” Bruce Wayne says with a stinging tone turning on the voice modulator midway through his sentence. Dick ducks his head like dodging a physical blow and cringes to himself.

“Got me,” he murmurs eyes following the taillights of the last police car. “I didn’t mean to go without telling you.”

“ _Now’s not the time, Dick. I’ll take the Batmobile."_

“So, you’re thinking what I’m thinking?”

“ _Deadpool_.”


End file.
